


Cool for the Summer

by Powerfulweak



Series: Wednesday Addams!Castiel [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addams Family AU, Brief Transphobic Language, Cross Dressing!Castiel, Demisexual!Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, M/M, Prank Wars, Summer Camp AU, Transphobia, Wednesday Addams!Castiel, brief homophobic language, camp counselors, past mentions of Dean/Lisa Braeden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 4 in the "Wednesday Addams!Castiel" series. After Castiel gets fired from his office job (<i>the spiders were warranted</i>), Dean convinces him to join him as a junior counselor at Camp Chitaqua for the summer. But it isn't all sweetness and boondoggles as the boys face the biggest tests to their relationship yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artsiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsiel/gifts).



> As always, big thanks to [Interncastiel](http://interncastiel.tumblr.com/), who came up with the original prompt has been so invaluable in all aspects of writing this series, from art to headcanons to just letting me ask her random questions about Cas.

Dean reclines across the large Persian rug spread out over the grass, fingers brushing over the silken strands. His eyes focus on the empty space above as the twilight sky fades from blue into a deep black. The soft murmur of voices surrounds him as does the immediate sound of pages turning. Castiel sits beside him, quietly reading a book of poetry by the light of a the candelabra perched next to him, the flame casting flickering shadows over both of them.

“You know, Cas,” Dean starts, “when you said your family was having a Memorial Day picnic, this wasn’t what I expected.”

“How do you mean?” Cas asks, not lifting his eyes from him book.

“Well, I didn’t expect it to be at night,” Dean says.

“My family has something of an aversion to direct sunlight, Dean,” Castiel replies, the “obviously” left unsaid. Dean chuckles and pushes himself up to rest on his elbows.

“Yeah, I know,” He says, glancing toward the members of Cas’ immense extended family milling around them. “I still think a cemetery is kind of a strange place to hold a picnic, though." Castiel looks up, raising an eyebrow in Dean’s direction and closing his book.

“Why? I can’t think of a better location to memorialize lost relatives.” Dean opens his mouth to respond but shuts it immediately. Castiel does have something of a point. “Are you enjoying yourself, though?”  Dean smiles and sits up fully, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on Cas’ mouth.

“Yeah, I am,” he says against his lips. A shrill, bubbling laugh cuts through the air. Cas and Dean both turn to see a woman with fiery red hair talking very animatedly with Cas’ parents and Uncle.

“Who’s that?” Dean asks. He may not know all of Cas’ family, but he would have remembered this woman. With her hair and elegant, light gray party dress, she stands out like a sore thumb in the sea of black clothing.

“Abaddon,” Castiel answers coolly. “Uncle Crowley’s latest companion.” Dean frowns, noticing the way her fingers trail up and down Crowley’s arm while his hand rests solidly on the small of her back. She smiles wide, but something about it seems sinister. Maybe it’s the deep red lipstick giving her a clown-like appearance.

Gabriel darts across the lawn past them, chasing a small, giggling boy in a red and white romper.

“Samandriel,” Cas calls out, beckoning the child to him. Samandriel’s eyes light up when he notices Cas and he hurries over in his direction

"Well, hey there little man," Dean says as the toddler flops down onto Castiel’s lap. "Where did you come from."

“Samandriel is staying with us for the summer,” Castiel explains, plucking the voodoo doll from his chubby fingers and shaking it in front of the boy. “Colette and Cain are on a Himalayan expedition and requested we mind him. Apparently the guides thought it would be ‘deadly’ to bring him along.” Castiel makes air quotes and  rolls his eyes at the idea. Dean nods, hunkering down to get on eye level with the boy.

“Hmm, not sure you really look like a Samandriel,” Dean says playfully. “I think I’m going to call you… Alfie!” Samandriel erupts in a fit of giggles as Dean repeats the name over and over again. Castiel shakes but Dean catches a curl at the edge of Cas’ mouth, the beginnings of a smile.,

“Would you like to sing our song, Samandriel.” Cas offers, pulling the boy to his feet. He bounces in excitement as Cas begins to sing. “ _Ricin, Hemlock, Cyanide, Arsenic and Aconite…_ ” Samandriel claps along with the song, which Dean recognizes as “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”

“You’re really good with kids,” Dean interrupts. Castiel stops singing, looking at Dean in confusion.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know,” he replies. “I remember you once told me that if your parents had another kid, you’d sell it to a carnival.” Castiel gives an affirmative hum.

“Yes, but that would be only to prevent another creature such as Gabriel.” As if on cue, Gabriel tiptoes past their spot, holding a finger to his lips and a butcher’s knife behind his back.

“I can see that,” Dean mutters. “So you’re saying Alfie here is safe?” Castiel tilts his head to the side and considers Samandriel, who is pushing pins deeper into his voodoo doll.

“No, I don’t think so,” Cas admits. “Samandriel… Samandriel is good.” Dean looks up at Cas with a wistful smile, acutely aware of how much he loves him. They spend much of their free time together, both in class and out, which makes the fact that Dean leaves only a few days after school lets out even harder.

He’d signed up to be a junior counselor at Camp Chitaqua last October and had forgotten about it until his orientation packet came in the mail a few weeks ago.

“I’m going to miss you,” Dean says. Castiel glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Dean, we’ve discussed this, your sentiment is uncalled for,” he chastises gently. “The camp is only two hours away. I assure you, I plan on visiting.”

“Yeah, but we won’t see each other every day,” Dean scoots closer, hooking his chin over the corner of Cas’ shoulder and watching him play with Samandriel.

“We’re not even out of school yet,” Castiel counters. “And it’s only ten weeks.” He turns his head, pecking Dean soundly on the lips.

“Samandriel,” A sharp sing-song voice calls out. Dean feels Castiel tense up against him as Abaddon crosses the lawn in their direction. “There you are, silly boy.” From far away, the woman was vaguely off-putting, up close, though, she is downright frightening. Her expression has the semblance of pleasantness, but her eyes hold none of it. Her smile grows wider when she spots Cas and Dean.

“Castiel, so lovely to see you again,” She says. Castiel flinches as she leans down and presses twin kisses to his cheeks. “And you must be Dean.” Dean swallows hard. Being focus of this woman’s attention is unnerving, like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean answers, shaking her clammy, corpse-like hand.

“I have heard so much about you,” she says breathily. “Crowley could go on and on for hours about you two.” Dean frowns; he’s not sure how comfortable he is with Abaddon and Crowley discussing him and Cas.

“Ok,” Dean says hesitantly, drawing his hand back and wiping it on his jeans on the sly. Abaddon turns her attention back to Samandriel, who is attempting to gnaw on Castiel’s book.

“Now, now, Samandriel,” She plucks up the small boy, “That’s not a toy.” Samandriel fusses as she plucks him up and places him on her hip. “We’re going to have lots of fun this summer, aren’t we?” She bounces him up and down in an attempt to calm him.

“I’m sure you’ll be too distracted when you and Crowley go abroad in a few weeks,” Castiel’s face is blank, but his voice is thick with irritation. Abaddon smiles down at him with a sly, knowing look.

“There’s been a change plans. Haven't you heard?” She replies with mock sweetness. “Your mother and father have asked that I stay on as Samandriel’s nanny while his parents are away. You’ll see me everyday. Won’t that be wonderful, Castiel?” Cas’ eyes go large in and his mouth hangs open in shock at this news.

“Abaddon,” Gabriel rushes toward them, drawing her attention away from Cas and Dean. "Abaddon, Uncle Crowley says he needs your assistance with the William Tell trick.” Abaddon places Samandriel back on the rug and turns to walk away, hips swinging as she goes.

“Thought you two could use a little rescuing." Gabriel grins at them, settling down on the rug and stretching out on his stomach. Castiel doesn't respond, his expression still stunned by Abaddon's revelation.

“Dude,” Dean says, breaking the silence. “Your family can be a bit out there at times, but she is just frightening.”

“Eh, not really family,” Gabriel replies, propping his jaw up on his palm. “But the sentiment still stands. I agree.” Castiel gives an incredulous head shake.

“She’s staying the entire summer?” he breathes out.

“Yeah, ain’t that a bitch,” Gabriel says. “It was Crowley’s idea. Go figure. You’d think they’d want to take a trip.”

“Probably didn’t want to be alone in the same room with her for too long,” Dean chuckles. Gabriel snorts and nods in agreement.

“Yeah, can’t really blame him for that one.” Castiel still looks like he can’t process this information. Dean reaches out for his shoulder and he startles at the touch.

“Cas, are you alright?” Dean asks. Castiel’s expression is dour and he shakes his head.

“I can’t spend the entire summer in the house with that woman,” he mutters. “She insists on having the television set to that insufferable Caillou for Samandriel. I won’t bear it; I’d rather throw myself off a cliff.”

“Again,” Gabriel interjects.

“Well, you’re not exactly going to be stuck with her everyday, right?” Dean offers. “You’ll be at your job most of the day. I bet they’d let you pick up extra hours.” Castiel bites at his lip and averts his eye sheepishly.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Gabriel interjects with an amused grin.

“Am I missing something?” Dean glances between the two of them. Gabriel and Castiel shoot each other a look, silently communicating like only siblings can.

“I am… no longer under employ at Adler and Adler, Attorneys at Law.” Castiel admits.

“What?” Dean asks. “Why? What happened? You were so excited about that job.”

“I was, yes,” he says with a nod. “But I didn’t appreciate the way Mr. Adler Senior spoke to me.”

“Just like I’m sure he didn’t appreciate the nest of spiders you put in his desk?" Gabriel offers.

“Oh, They were wolf spiders,” Cas argues. “They would hardly have killed him. And he should learn to be more polite when ordering his coffee.” Dean places his hand over Cas’ and squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he says. “I know you were excited about that job."

“The funds would have been nice,” he sighs. “I suppose I should attempt the search for another job.”

“Tell you what?” Dean says, grasping both of Castiel’s hands. “How about we go to the mall tomorrow, look for some help wanted signs?"

“Oooh, Can I come?” Gabriel perks up.

“No!” Cas and Dean say in unison.

 

* * *

 

The after school crowd has already filled the corridors of the mall by the time Castiel and Dean arrive. They wander past the stores, Dean keeping his eyes peeled for any hiring signs.

“Hot Topic?” Dean offers as they pass the open door, some deafening pop-punk blaring from within. “Seems like your kind of thing.” Castiel stops in his tracks, staring into the store with evaluating eyes.

“No,” He says flatly. “Hot Topical is far too whimsical.” Dean glances at Cas into and then at the store, confused by Cas’ definition of "whimsy." They continue on.

“I would rather strangle myself with a pair of khakis,” Castiel says as they pass The Gap, before Dean can even offer the suggestion

"Cold Stone?” Dean asks, eyes scanning the food court. “You like ice cream.” At that moment, the employees burst into a lively, upbeat song.

“No,” Castiel states, his eyes growing wide in horror.

“Because of the singing? C’mon, I heard you sing to Alfie,” Dean grins at him.

“Teaching Samandriel about poisons and neurotoxins is one thing,” Castiel states. “Schilling for gratuities like a trained monkey… It’s embarrassing for all involved.” Dean shrugs as he and Castiel walk through the mall, passing the various stores.

“Have you thought about asking Tessa’s dad if he’s hiring?” Dean asks. Castiel sighs and shakes his head.

“Yes. Unfortunately, Mr. Mortimer already has taken Tessa on for the summer as an apprentice.” he says. “There were no other positions.” Dean hums in response, maneuvering amongst the crowd and wracking his brain for ideas. It takes him a second to notice when Castiel isn’t by his side. He looks back to see him frozen in place, staring at the H&M display window. The faceless mannequin wears a lacy black mini skirt and a dark, draping t-shirt. Castiel looks mesmerized, eyes glued to the mannequin and the outfit. Dean thinks he can read Castiel well enough to know what he likes, but he also sees the way Castiel startles when he notices Dean watching him or the way he shifts nervously on his feet.

“Hey Cas, do you think we can stop in here for minute?” Dean asks, pointing at the entrance of the store. “I promised Sam I’d check to see if they had dress pants here. Kid hit another growth spurt and now all his pants look like floods.” Dean takes Castiel by the hand and leads him into the store. If Dean has to resort to sly methods to get his boyfriend to open up to him, so be it.

Castiel wanders through the racks of clothes, fingers brushing over the hangers, and eyes bright with delight. He stops when he reaches the rack with the skirt, boldly marked as on sale for $15.

“You like it?” Dean asks, sidling up next to Castiel. He looks nervous, but he gives Dean a brief head nod. “You want to try it on?”

“I’m not sure if they’ll let me,” Cas answers quietly, fingers clutching at the filmy fabric.

“Why not?” Dean asks. Castiel looks up at Dean through his eyelashes, giving Dean a withering look.

“C’mon Cas, if you like it, just try it on,” Dean says with a shrug. He turns and grabs a few other items off of near by racks. “Try these too.”

“These aren’t my size,” Cas says, but Dean catches the curl of his lips and the grateful flush in his cheeks.

“Well, then get the size you need, you doof,” Dean replies, placing a warm kiss to Castiel’s cheek. Cas nods, grabbing a few more skirts and tops and walking toward the dressing room. Dean follows after him, on guard and ready to confront anyone prepared to give his boyfriend shit, but the dressing room attendant seems more interested in her cell phone than the clothes Cas is carrying in.

By the time they leave 45 minutes later, Castiel has two bag clenched in his hands, filled with new clothes.

“Thank you, Dean,” he says softly and they leave.

“Why? I didn’t do anything,” Dean says. He’d offered to pay for the clothes, but Castiel had an iron grip on his wrist when he tried to reach for his wallet.

“For… Being agreeable to this,” Cas admits. Dean reaches for Castiel’s free hand, taking hold of it.

“Cas, when have I ever had a problem with anything you do?” Dean asks. Cas squeezes his fingers and Dean can see him biting back a smile. “I thought you were worried your parents would have an issue with this.”

“Oh no,” Cas shakes his head vehemently. “My parents see gender construct as societal pablum.” Dean nods, getting the gist of Cas’ words, if not quite the meaning.

“Still,” Cas sighs, glancing down at his bag. “I hoped my last paycheck from Adler and Adler would have sustained me for some time." Castiel hesitates at the MAC store and Dean tugs him inside by hand.

“You could always come to camp with me?” Dean asks after a moment. Cas stops examining an eyeliner pencil and looks at Dean.

“Pardon?”

“Come to camp with me,” Dean repeats, more excited this time. “As a junior counselor, like me.” Castiel blinks slowly, his expression unreadable.

“Dean, you are due to leave in a week,” he reminds. “I hardly doubt there are still positions-”

“No, that’s just it!” Dean interrupts, “They are always short handed on staff. We have new people come in throughout the summer. If we call today, we can get you on the list. You could even be in my cabin!” Castiel grimace as he examines the mascaras.

“I’m curious as to why you think I’d be a good addition to… camp." Dean shrugs absently.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “You’re good with kids. There’s art classes and stuff. You could show them all the bugs you collect. And there’d be other people there too! Sam’s a camper this year and Jo and Charlie are junior counselors as well.” Castiel purses his mouth as he thinks, smearing black eyeshadow over the back of his hand.

“This is all in the woods?” he asks.

“Yup, deep woods,” Dean says with a grin; he knows he’s got him. Castiel exhales heavily and nods.

“Very well. Call your camp… person,” He says, plucking up a few makeup items and walking toward the counter. "Spending ten weeks deep in the forest might have some benefits. The funds would be useful and I suppose it would be nice to supplement my venomous spider collection.” Dean snorts and follows after him.

“Look at you , Mr. Brightside,” Dean says, nudging him in the arm. Castiel shoots a icy glare back at him. “Sorry. I take it back.”

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean scramble out of the Impala as it pulls up in front of the community center. A sea of coach busses sits idling, ready to transport campers and staff to Camp Chitaqua. Dean hefts a duffle bag out of the trunk with a grunt.

“Jesus, Sam, how many books are you bringing?” he mutters.

“I have to catch up on my summer reading list,” Sam answers, receiving a dramatic eyeroll from Dean and a mumbled “nerd” under his breath.

They wave their Dad off and watch as the Impala disappears down the street. Dean immediately begins searching for Cas. Dean had offered to give him a ride, but he had begged off, saying Megan and Virgil wanted to see him off.

“Sucks you couldn’t bring the car,” Sam says, sitting halfway on top of his suitcase.

“Wouldn’t have mattered,” Dean replies, eyes still scanning over the sea of kids and parents. “We’re going to be too busy to go anywhere, anyway. Bobby thinks that’s the best way to keep us all out of trouble.”

“Cas is going to be there. Do you really think you’re not going to get in any trouble with him around?” Sam asks, raising a doubtful eyebrow. Dean snorts and shakes his head.

“Drop  it, Sam,” he says, nudging Sam’s shoulder. He knows what Sam is getting at, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. His relationship with Cas, and all that it entails, is nobody’s business but their own. Dean is sick of his Mom and Dad awkwardly trying to broach the subject of sex or “accidentally” leaving pamphlets in his room. Cas has never made any mention of sex, nor has he instigated that side of their relationship, and Dean is cool with that. He’s happy just having Cas.

Dean does one more visual sweep, spotting Virgil’s massive frame looming above the crowd, arms loaded with what looks like steamer trunks. He takes off in their direction.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greets as soon as he reaches his boyfriend. Castiel stands under his dark umbrella, dark glasses masking his eyes. Dean notices with some fondness that Cas is wearing the new lace skirt and one of the tops he’d bought the week before.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, lowering his glasses just enough to meet his eye. The smile on Dean’s face drops when he notices Gabriel jogging up behind him, massive camping roll strapped to his back. “Whoa, whoa... what’s he doing here?”

“I’m going to camp,” Gabriel beams at Dean’s. “Did you really think I was going to let my brother run a away for two months while I’m left alone with Abaddouche? No. Not happening.”

“Gabriel insisted on coming,” Castiel sighs. “He threatened to sign me up for Zumba classes if I prevented him.” Dean grimaces, but nods; he can’t really picture Cas in a Zumba class and he can’t blame him for relenting.

“Virgil, please deliver the cases near the busses,” Castiel directs. Virgil groans in affirmation and walks the trunks in that direction.

“Dean!” Sam calls out, dragging the suitcases and duffels in their direction. “What gives man? You’re supposed to help me with these things, not run off to find your boyfriend.”

“Calm your tits, Sam,” Dean says, moving to help him with his bags. “It’s good for you. Going to build up those skinny chicken arms of yours.” He playfully squeezes Sam’s bicep. Sam slaps his hand away with a muttered “Jerk.”

“So you must be the famous Sam?” Gabriel pushes past Dean and Cas, grinning broadly. “Nice to put a name with a face.” He thrusts out his arm, grabbing Sam’s hand, and shaking it vigorously.

“Uh… yeah.” Sam answers, expression cautious. “Who are you?”

“Gabriel Addams.” He throws a thumb in Cas’ direction. “Cas’ brother. We’re going to be in the same grade next year.” He waggles a finger between himself and Sam.

Sam frowns. “You’re Cas’ brother?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gabriel says with an easy shrug. “I got all of the attractiveness. _So_ unfair. It’s a curse, really.” Castiel rolls his eyes and turns his attention to Virgil as he lumbers back toward them. Dean notices the Megan pop up over his shoulder. She crawls down his arm and into Castiel’s awaiting hand.

“Megan, you’re responsible for feeding and walking Virgil while Gabriel and I are gone. Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere near Father’s trains, yes?” Megan taps twice in response with a finger and crawls back onto Virgil’s shoulder. She waves a finger goodbye from her perch as he retreats from the community center parking lot.

“We should be leaving soon,” Dean says, shouldering his duffle. “You guys need any snacks? Drinks? Bathroom breaks?”

“I would kill for some gummy bears,” Gabriel says. He tugs Sam by the sleeve, pulling him of balance. “C’mon Sam, gummy bear time.”

“We’ll meet you at the busses,” Dean calls after them, receiving a wave from Sam. Dean looks at Cas out of the side of his eye and smiles.  He leans over and plants a tender kiss on his lips.  

“Didn’t get to do that earlier,” he mumbles. Castiel hums and kisses him once more.

“Thank you for waiting for Gabriel’s absence,” he replies. “Shall we find out seats?” Dean nods and reaches down, lacing their hands together.

“Probably a good idea,” he says, leading him toward the busses.

 

* * *

 

Castiel wakes to the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder.

“Cas,” Dean says softly. “Cas, you gotta wake up. We’re here.” He blinks slowly, the fog of sleep fading away. He squints against the sunlight pouring in through the window and pulls his dark glasses from his pocket.

“We’ve arrived?” Castiel asks, stifling a yawn.

“Almost,” Dean answers, eyes eagerly glued to the window. “We’re on the last road leading up to camp.” Castiel glances over Dean’s shoulder and out the window as a blur of trees rushes past. Dean looks back at him with a wide, gleeful grin.

“Look, I just want you to know… I’m really happy you’re here,” Dean says, expression softening as he takes Castiel’s hand. “I know this isn’t exactly your thing.”

“How so, Dean?” Castiel asks, brow furrowing behind his glasses.

“Well, you know… Fresh air, sunshine, the great outdoors.” Dean shrugs.

“On the contrary, Dean. I do actually enjoy being amongst nature,” Castiel says. “So many things can kill you.” He leans closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Someone might even get struck by lightning.”

“Well, hopefully it’s not one of your kids,” Dean adds. Castiel shrugs.

“It doesn’t have to be human,” Castiel adds. “A squirrel would do. And then I could teach the children how to taxidermy it.”

“See, you’re perfect for this.” Dean chuckles. “The kids are going to love you.” The bus pulls to an abrupt stop, causing the passengers to sway forward. Castiel looks out the window, noting an aged wooden sign reading “Camp Chitaqua- established 1976” and a large wooden lodge in the further distance. Dean and Cas hang back, letting the other passengers go first before grabbing their things and stepping off the bus.

Castiel frowns, his senses immediately assaulted as soon as he sets foot on solid ground. “It smells like..”

“Trees?” Dean offers.

“Floor cleaner,” he answers.

“You’ll  get used to the smell of pine trees after a couple days.” Dean says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “Why don’t you wait here for them to unload our stuff while I look up our cabin assignment?” Castiel leans against the side of the bus, watching Dean jog off in the direction of the lodge. He pulls his poetry book out of the pocket of his cardigan and finds his marked space.

“Hey there,” Castiel raises his eyes over the edge of his glasses at the voice spoken in his direction. “Need some help with your bags?” A tall, dark-haired man in a baseball cap stands in front of him with a leering smile. Castiel catches the way the guy’s eyes drift over his body, lingering on his exposed legs. He purses his lips and shakes his head, turning his attention back to his book.

“Are you’re shy? I like shy girls,” The guy moves into the spot next to Castiel, standing closer than necessary. Their upper arms brush momentarily and Castiel flinches. He doesn’t like people entering his personal space without permission, and especially not Abercrombie rejects who stink of desperation and beer bongs.

Castiel closes his book and removes his glasses, narrowing his eye at the man. He notices the camp logo embroidered on the breast pocket of his yellow polo shirt with the words “Lead Counselor” written beneath it.

“I’m Michael, by the way.” The guy says with a grin. “How would like if, after the bonfire tonight, we go for a walk around the lake?” He gives Castiel a flirtatious wink. Everything about this guy looks manufactured, like a Ken Doll brought to life. Hair is perfectly coiffed, plastered on smile, clothes pressed, with dull, corpse-like eyes, and not in a good way.

“I would’ve thought my lack of response would’ve been enough of a detractor,” Castiel states, looking up at this Michael person. “I was incorrect in that assumption. Let me then amend that situation: I. Do. Not. Need. Assistance.” He harshly annunciates each word. The smile on Michael’s face twists into a frown at the bitter tone.

“Nor do I need you attempting to seduce me.” Castiel continues. “Not only am I already in a relationship, but I am not attracted to assbutts who stink of overpriced cologne and rohypnol.” A flicker of realization passes over the guy’s face. He looks Castiel up and down once more, his frown growing deeper.

“Are you a dude?” he spits in disgust.

“Are you asking if I’m male?” Castiel raises a brow. “Yes.”

“Why the hell are you dressed like a girl?” Castiel looks down at his clothes, admiring the lace skirt and filmy black cardigan.

“Clothing is not inherently gendered,” he states plainly.

“The hell it is!” Michael sneers, stepping back from him as is he has a communicable disease. “Freak.” He turns and walks off, muttering in disgust under his breath. He crosses the wide lawn, approaching a group men, all dressed in a similar fashion, and points in Castiel’s direction. Castiel opens his poetry book once more, pointedly ignoring the laughter coming from the group, no doubt at his expense.

“Sonuvabitch!” Castiel hears Dean’s yell all the way from the lodge. He closes his book and heads toward the commotion to see what is the matter. Dean stands, glaring as a printed out list tacked onto a large wooden board outside of the building.

“Dean?” He asks hesitantly, lightly touching his arm and causing Dean to flinch in surprise.

“They didn’t put us in the same cabin!” Dean blurts out as he turns to Castiel. “Bobby promised me we could be together. I don’t… I don’t get it. We’re on opposite sides of the camp almost, for Christ’s sake!” Castiel looks at the board, spotting his name under the heading “Cabin 10.”

“Where are you?” he asks.

“Cabin Three. Same as I was last year.” Dean scowls at the board. “I’ve gotta find Bobby.” He stomps off, Castiel trailing after him.

“Bobby!” Dean yells out. An older man with a graying beard and a worn cap, looks up from his clipboard in response. “What the hell, Bobby?!”

“Dean, when you’re here, you know you have to refer to me as Director Singer.” he chastises quietly. “And lower your voice, for Christ’s sake!”

“What the Hell, _Director Singer?_ ” Dean hisses angrily. Singer levels a long-suffering look at Dean.

“I suppose this is about you and your boy over here?” he gestures at Castiel.

“You said we could be in the same cabin!” Dean states.

“That was before I found out that this Castiel kid was your boyfriend,” Singer argues. “Dean, you know the rules we have about fraternization amongst the staff. We can’t have any of the kids catching you two bumping uglies. Can’t be bending the rules just because you two are both boys.” Dean’s nostrils flare and he narrows his eyes at the older man.

“Putting us on different sides of the camp, though?” Dean asks, his voice calmer but still upset. “That’ll put us on opposing teams for ‘Capture the Flag!’” Singer looks at Dean seriously.

“That was to help you avoid temptation. Oh, don’t give me that look boy! That whole camp still remembers you and that Braden girl last summer.” Castiel blinks in surprise; while he knew about Dean and Lisa Braden, he wasn’t aware of them being an item at this camp. A cool, uncomfortable feeling settles in Castiel’s stomach and it takes a moment for him to pinpoint it as jealousy.

Singer sighs as he removes his cap and wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand. “You two will still be able to see each other at meal times and during activities and such. If you can find someone to switch with, you two can still be on the same Flag team. Now get! I have a 150 snot-nosed kids to deal with and I have no time for your teenage drama.” Singer slips his clipboard under his arm and walks off, leaving Dean and Castiel standing there.

“Can you believe that?” Dean asks turning to Castiel. “He thinks we’d mess around just because we were in the same cabin.”

“Was that what you were intending?” Castiel asks, raising a brow over the edge of his glasses.

“Well, yeah, sort of,” Dean admits awkwardly. “But nothing that would traumatize the kids!”

“It seems you have a reputation here,” Castiel offers. “And it precedes you.”

“Lisa and I didn’t _do_ anything,” he insists. “We went skinny dipping _once_. That’s it, I swear. We didn’t start dating until school started, and then it only lasted a few weeks.” Castiel wants to assure Dean that he believes him, but a tap on his shoulder draws his attention. He turns to see a small woman with dark, curly hair and ivory skin in a plum-colored polo top.

“Hey are you Cas… Cas-ty-elle… Castle... ?” She squints at the clipboard in her hand. “Fuck it. You’re the Addams kid, right?” She offers her hand to shake.

“I’m Meg, I’ll be your lead counselor.” She peers over his shoulder and shoots an impish grin at Dean. “Well, hey there, Winchester. This one yours?”

“Eat shit and Die, Meg,” Dean snarls. Meg’s smile grows wider.

“I’ll take special care of your sweetheart,” She shoots him a cheeky wink. “C’mon, Clarence, let me show you to your cabin. We’ll get you luggage in a minute. By the way. love the skirt. I almost bought that same one in red. You and I need to talk clothes.” She turns on her heel, beckoning with one finger for Castiel to follow. He bites back an amused smile; he like Meg already.

“You touch him and it’s statutory rape, Meg!” Dean yells after her. She just throws her middle finger up in response. Castiel reaches for Dean’s hand and give it a squeeze, causing Dean to move forward and plant a quick kiss on him.

“I’ll see you at Dinnertime, alright?” Dean assures. Castiel nods and turns to follow Meg to his cabin.

 

* * *

 

Dean watches miserably as Cas follows Meg Masters to his cabin. It’s only the opposite side of the camp, but it might as well be a different country. Different sides mean different age groups, different activities, even different meal time occasionally. He’d been so stoked to have Cas in the same cabin with him and it had nothing to do with “bumping uglies,” as Bobby had put it.

“Are you Winchester?” Dean turns to see a tall guy in a baseball cap and bright yellow polo shirt. “I’m Michael. I’m your lead.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dean shakes his hand, slipping into camp mode.

“You were in Cabin Three last year, right?” Michael asks, glancing down at his clipboard. Dean nods in response. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you. Raphael spoke very highly of you as a junior counselor.” Dean preens inwardly at the compliment. Raphael had been hard-to-please and exacting. To hear that he spoke well of Dean feels pretty good.

“C’mon,” Michael says, motioning for Dean to follow. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the cabin.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I didn't mean for this update to take so long. Going to try harder next time, promise.
> 
> Also, please note the changes in the tags. Warnings for brief homophobic and transphobic language.

In spite of the sunshine, fresh air, and picturesque setting, Castiel finds that he doesn’t outright hate camp. The nights are long and eerie, full of mysterious sounds and movement, the surrounding forest leaves Castiel with a warm feeling of isolation, and the “spooky” campfire stories have him to the point of crying from holding back laughter.

There are also a few familiar faces, as Dean promised, including Jo, who seemed surprised at Castiel’s appearance. She was less than enthused when she found out they were in the same team.

The children under his charge are generally well behaved and those that aren’t have to face the wrath of Meg. All she has to do was give them a look or raise an eyebrow and even the worst hellion would get in line. At times she reminds Castiel of his Grandmama Rowena, all acid-tongue and ulterior motives. He has to admit, he took an immediate liking to her.

“Jeffrey, I swear to God, if you don’t leave Jesse alone, I’m going to make you hold the target for archery practice,” Jo yells out across the lake followed by the sharp sound of a whistle blow. She stands at the edge of the aged wooden dock in bright red swimsuit and visor. Castiel and Meg sit back on their towels a short distance away, waiting to switch out on monitoring the campers. The slight red-haired boy stops his attack on the smaller child and swims away, scowling back at Jo.

“Aww, I think Big Bad Miss Harvelle scared him,” Meg calls out with a laugh. Jo sends a glare back at her, but it’s clear from the smirk beginning to curl at her mouth that she enjoys putting a little bit of fear into the more ill-mannered campers.

Meg sighs and turns over, stretching out on her stomach and resting her head on her folded arms. She reaches out a few inches, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen and offering it in Castiel’s direction.

“You need any, Clarence?” she asks. He looks up from his book and shakes his head,  readjusting his dark umbrella to make sure he’s covered. Meg shrugs and sets the bottle back down. “So what’s the deal with you and Winchester?” Castiel tips down his dark glasses to look at her, a cat-like smile spreading across her face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s going on with you and Winchester?” Meg repeats. She shifts onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow and resting her chin on her fist.

“You’re asking if we are a couple?” Castiel asks. “Yes, we are. I’m sure Jo could’ve made you aware of the situation.”

“Yeah, but I wanted it right from the horse’s mouth.” Meg rolls back and pushes herself up on both elbows, facing Castiel. “I’m actually impressed. I would’ve never pegged Winchester as swinging both ways. He was all over Lisa last summer.” Castiel’s nostrils flare; he has no real reason to feel jealous for past dalliances, but he still does. He picks his book up, opening to a random spot.

“C’mon, Cas, don’t be like that,” Meg nudges his leg with her foot. “You and Winchester make a far better looking couple, if it’s any consolation.” Castiel purses his lips; it is actually. He mumbles a thank you and tries to refocus on his poetry book, but he can still feel Meg staring at him. He shifts uncomfortably, tugging at the edges of his bathing suit.

“I bet this is really tough, huh?” Meg asks, flashing a toothy smile. “Not being able to spend any time together.”

“No, I’ve seen him at few meals over the last week ,” Castiel says. “I imagine there may be other opportunities.”

“I meant alone time, Clarence,” Meg clarifies.

“Pardon?” Castiel’s brow furrows.

“Like you two aren’t going at it like rabbits on the regular.” Meg laughs, sitting up and leaning towards Castiel. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging here, spill! What's Winchester like in the sack?" Castiel can feel a blush rising to his cheeks at the mention of physical intimacy. It's not that he isn't familiar with subject or sexual conduct as a whole; with parents as flagrantly affectionate as his, it would be impossible not to be. It's different for Castiel, though. Before meeting Dean, the thought of kissing or even touching someone in such a way made him spectacularly uncomfortable. His Uncle often pokes fun at his lack of “urges”, as he puts it.

Dean is different, though. There’s an emotional connection between them, yes, but beyond that Castiel wants Dean in a way has never wanted anything before. Castiel walks away from Dean kisses at the end of the day with his body absolutely thrumming. At times, the intensity with which he wants Dean is unnerving.

What was far more concerning to Castiel is that he knows Dean regularly experiences sexual attraction and yet he has never acted on it with Castiel. Castiel worried for sometime that perhaps he wasn’t sexually attractive to Dean, but the physical evidence to the contrary, pressed against the inside of Dean’s jeans, told him this was not the case. Castiel wonders if perhaps Dean just accommodates him because he assumes Castiel has no interest.

Castiel shifts uncomfortably and mumbles  a “good,” hoping to stave Meg off. Meg smirks and rolls her eye affectionately. It’s clear she isn’t satisfied, but she gives an accepting shrug.

“Fine, fine, you don’t have to tell me,” she twists around and lays back once more. “I’m just curious is all. If you do ever need an evening alone, though, let me know. I can cover for you.” Castiel doesn’t know what to say besides murmuring a thank you..

A chorus of whoops and hollers shatter the relative peace of the lake. Two of Cabin Three’s junior counselors careen down the hill toward the lake, cannonballing in before anyone can stop them. They barely splash Meg’s thighs, but she is immediately on her feet, ripping the sunglasses from her head and screaming obscenities in their direction.

Michael, Dean and a small group of campers amble behind, inner tubes slung over their arms.

“Would you tell your Douche Crew to pay attention to what they are doing?” Meg hisses, stepping into Michael’s path. “That little asshole Bartholomew nearly landed on top of Alex when he hit the water.”

“Chill, Meg,” Michael says, removing her finger from the center of his chest. “Their just excited to be here. Let them have their fun.”

“They can have all the fun they want,” Meg narrows her eyes at him, “But if all 140 pounds of one of them lands on all 80 pounds of her, they’ll break her neck. Just get a handle on your campers!”

“Jesus, Meg.” Michael rolls his eyes. “What’s got you so spun up. You on your period of something?” Meg’s nostrils flare in anger. Michael’s eyes move to where Castiel sits, giving him a once over.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he sneers. Castiel glances down at his body. It’s just a standard tank suit, vintage yes, but very haute couture at the time.

“My bathing suit,” Castiel answers flatly.

“Was that your grandma’s?” Michael snorts.

“My great aunt’s, I believe.” Castiel smooths down the ties at the center of the suit. “I was told she was a synchronized swimmer. Her entire team perished when one of them had a heart attack mid-performance.” Michael blinks at Castiel in confusion.

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Castiel’s answer is cut off by one of the junior counselors calling out Michael’s name. He jogs off toward the edge of the deck without another word. Meg flips him off as soon as his back is turned.

“That guy is such a prick,” She mutters, settling back down onto her towel. Castiel’s gaze drifts  to where Dean stands, chatting and laughing with his cabin-mates near a neighboring dock. He strips off his t-shirt, letting it fall to the ground and revealing the freckled torso beneath it. Castiel bites at his lip, a strange combination of pride and desire filling his chest. The sunlight reflects off the lake, lighting Dean up from below and making his already sun-kissed skin glow even brighter.

Castiel’s eyes follow his every movement, mesmerized as Dean slips out of his flip flops and walks to the edge of the deck. His arms swing back and then forward sending him diving smoothly into the water. Castiel doesn’t realize until Dean disappears below the surface that he’s been holding his breath the entire time.

“Wipe your chin, Clarence. You’re drooling.” Meg teases. Castiel shifts where he sits, trying to rein in control on his body. Dean breaks the surface of the water and swims toward his dock.

“Hey.” He beams at Castiel, pulling himself up enough so his elbows rest on the edge. “Care to join me? The water feels great.” He gives a flirtatious wink, the sun catching the water droplets in his hair.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, closing his umbrella and rising to his feet. He walks toward the edge of the dock. “I’m afraid I must decline the offer. Thank you, though.”

“Cas can’t swim,” Meg supplies, answering Dean’s question before he can ask it. Dean’s brow furrows and he looks from Castiel to Meg and back.

“You can’t?” He asks. “How come?” Dean pushes himself up higher until he's sitting at the edge of the dock. Dean lets his feet hang down into the water as pats the spot next to him for Castiel.

“The opportunity and the need never arose," he answers with a small shrug.

“Could have come in handy now, though,” Meg interrupts. “Kids this year are wild.” As if on cue, Jo marches across the muddy beach, toward their dock.

“Do you think one of you two could get off your asses and help me?” She gripes, hands on her hips. “Jeffrey is impossible right now.” She notices Dean after a second. “Oh, hey Dean.” Meg sighs and starts to get to her feet, but Castiel holds a hand up to stop her.

“I have this,” he says. He cups a hand over his mouth and calls out to Jeffrey. The boy swims to him, face set in a scowl as Castiel kneels at the edge of the dock. He leans down close and whispers something in the boy’s ear.

Jeffrey's brows draw tight together and then his eyes widen. He pulls back, looking at Castiel with a horrified expression. The is a high-pitched scream as he bolts from the water, running barefoot through the woods. He didn’t even bothering to grab his things.

Castiel mouth curls at the edge smugly while  Dean, Jo and Meg all stare at him, slack-jawed.

“What the Hell did you say to him?” Jo asks, her tone a mixture of wonder and annoyance.

“I just made him aware there are several species of bacteria living in this lake,” Castiel replies, returning to his spot next to Dean. “Including a flesh-eating bacteria that is attracted to human urine and will follow any source, swimming up the urethra, settling in the testes and destroying a victim from within.”

Jo and Dean both look aghast, but Meg looks almost impressed.

“Is that…” Jo swallows hard. “Is that true?” Castiel gives her an apathetic shrug.

“Perhaps,” he answers. Dean chuckles and wraps an arm around him.

“You’re so clever,” Dean mumbles affectionately. Castiel wants to grumble about Dean getting him wet, but the feeling of Dean’s bare skin against his arm is too enjoyable.

“You coming to the bonfire tonight?” Dean asks as he takes Castiel’s hand in his.

“I was under the impression that our attendance was required,” Castiel answers.

“Well, I guess it is,” Dean laughs.

“And I believe you asked me to sit with you yesterday as well,” he adds.

“That’s because I like hearing you say you will,” Dean moves in for a kiss, but Castiel stops him with two fingers to his lips. He notices Meg out of the corner of his eyes, tipping down her glasses to watch them.

“Public displays of affection in front of the children are frowned upon,” Castiel whispers. Dean rolls his eyes and scans the lake.

“C’mon, those kids are too busy playing Marco Polo to notice.” he says.

“I’ll close my eyes if you two want to got at it,” Meg pipes up. “Just keep it above the waist, ‘kay?” Dean grins and cups Castiel’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. Castiel takes a sharp inhale in surprise. Dean’s lips are still cool from the lake water and his warm tongue slips easily into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel leans into Dean’s touch, his thumbs brush over his cheekbones. A surge of want rushes through Castiel and he has to hold himself back from crawling into Dean’s lap.

The moment is broken by a shout and a splash. Castiel pulls back to see two of Dean’s cabin mates shouting at each other as they engage in a water fight with the campers.

“Hey Dean! What are you doing? C’mon!” One of the children calls out, half hanging out of his inner tube.

“Back to work,” Dean sighs as he pecks Castiel on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight?” Castiel nods as Dean slips off the dock and swims toward his group.

“God, you have it bad, don’t you?” Castiel looks up, up to see Meg standing behind him. Castiel raises a questioning eyebrow, but she just shakes her head with a grin. “Just keep my offer in mind. If you two want to slip away during the bonfire tonight, I’m willing to cover for you.”

“Why?” Castiel asks, taking Meg’s offered her hand and standing up.

“Because my cold, little black heart has a warm, gooey center. I like seeing you smile, Clarence.”  Castiel frowns at this. He does _not_ smile. “Plus, getting my friends laid is good karma.” Meg plucks the towels off the dock and tosses them to Castiel.

“C’mon. Let’s get the kids back and get cleaned up before lunch. We want you looking your best for your loverboy, yes?” Meg puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles loudly, causing every head to turn in her direction.

“Alright, Cabin Ten, we’re moving.” she calls out over the lake. “Out of the water now!” Their campers swim to shore. Jo counts off the kids as they collect their things off the dock.

“Jeffrey never came back?” Jo asks, searching amongst the heads for a flash of red hair as the kids make their way of the twisting stairs toward the main camp.

“I doubt he’ll get near the lake for the rest of the summer,” Meg chuckles, tailing the group. Castiel moves to leave, but realizes he left his umbrella on the dock.  As he goes to pick it up, he spots Dean and the other members of Cabin Three laughing and splashing in the water. Contentment swells in his chest, until he feels Michael’s cold glare on him. Castiel can’t resist shooting a teasing smirk at him, causing Michael to frown deeper. Castiel rolls his eyes and opens his umbrella, following the path back to the main camp.

 

* * *

 

Dean grabs a plastic tray from the stack and follows down the chow line behind Michael. His eyes light up when he spots the tray of sliders. Dean could almost kiss Bobby at this moment; grumpy as the guy is, he never half-asses it on the food.

“Fuckin’ A, Roman! Quit knocking into my tray!” Bartholomew hisses giving Dick and aggressive shove.

“I wouldn’t have to if you watched the damn line!” Dick argues, pushing him back and knocking Bartholomew into Dean.

“Hey! Watch you language.” Michael gives a quiet order over Dean’s head. “I don’t want to hear one more curse word out of either of you.” Dick and Bartholomew both go silent and Dean smiles in relief. He likes the level of control Michael has over the group, not just the junior counselors but the kids themselves. Raphael was a good counselor, but he didn’t bond well with a lot of the campers, not even Dean as his second. He tended to control out of fear, constantly threatening the campers with calls to the parents and reports to Bobby if they acted up.

Michael is far and away as better lead than Raphael. Not only is he personable and friendly, laughing and joking easily with his junior counselors, but he can switch it off just as quick when he needs to. One word to a camper, and they get in line. Dean doesn’t find it surprising that their cabin is the best in camp.

He grabs a plates of sliders from the woman behind the lunch line and thanks her, picking up his tray and walking it toward their table.

“The campers have art before dinner,” Michael says as soon as he sits down. “Do you think you can take the lead on than one? I don’t want to clean up another paint fight thanks to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dipshit over there.” He casts a side eye glare at Dick and Bartholomew, who continue to snipe at each other as they walk to the table. Michael raises an inquiring brow at Dean.

“Yeah, I can do it,” he says as he digs into his burger. Bartholomew and Dick take their seats and immediately begin throwing tater tots at each other. Dean gives Michael a long suffering look and rolls his eyes. The kids this year are pretty cool and well-behaved, but he could do without his two fellow junior counselors, who are grade-A douchebags.

“Would you two stop flirting and eat your lunch?” Michael gripes. “We all know how badly you want each other’s dicks. You don’t have to broadcast it.” Bartholomew pulls a face.

“Do I look like a fag to you?” Dick sneers.

“I don’t know,” Bartholomew smirks at him, propping his chin up on his fist. “I saw you checking out that queer at the lake today.”

“The what?” Michael narrows his eyes at the two of them.

“The one that was sitting next to Masters,” Bartholomew says. “Dark hair, dressed like your Grandma?” Dean freezes at the description. There’s no way they weren’t talking about anyone but Cas.

“That was a girl, dumbass," Dick insists, giving Bartholomew and incredulous look.

“I swear that was a dude,” Bartholomew says, covering his heart with one hand and  holding up three fingers on the other.“ Five o’clock shadow and everything.”

“Ugh,” Dick grimaces in disgust. “And they actually let it work here? I thought there were rules against that kind of thing.”

“I think I saw Winchester talking to it.” Bartholomew pushes at Dean’s shoulder. Dean scowls and subtly scoots his chair away.

“Leave him alone guys,” he mutters, poking at his food in spite of the fact that he has lost his appetite.

“That’s enough,” Michael says stiffly.

"Oooo, sounds like Winchester has a little crush on the camp freak," Dick smirks. Dean opens his mouth to tell him off, but Michael raises his hand, cutting off the conversation.

"Guys! I said shut it!” he orders. He nods toward the campers who are finding their seats at the end of the table. “New topic, Roman. Keep it decent around the kids, okay?” Dean gives him a grateful look. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Gabriel enter the room and grab trays as they head for the lunch line.

“Hey, um, Michael? I just remembered that I told Sammy I’d eat with him today.” Dean tips his head in Sam’s direction. “Do you mind?” Michael shakes his head and shrugs, giving Dean the go-ahead. He mumbles a thank you as he picks up his tray. He’s grateful for any excuse to get away from Dick and Bartholomew, especially after the shit they said about Castiel.

He finds Sam’s junior counselors, Ed and Harry, at their table, hunched over their trays and deep in a heated argument with Charlie.

“No, you’re wrong,” Harry states emphatically. “There is absolutely no way they  exist in the same universe!”

“I don’t know,” Charlie shrugs, “Ed’s theory carries some weight.”

“Think about it,” Ed taps a finger on the table for emphasis. “Heisenberg’s blue meth is worldwide by the end of the show. What if users OD and then come back to life as walkers?”

“That’s crazy,” Harry snorts. “How would it have such an instant impact? Wouldn’t it be gradual?” Ed and Charlie both shrug.

“U.S. Government gets involved, things go haywire.” Charlie offers, biting into a french fry.

“Yeah, and there are all of these Breaking Bad references in Walking Dead.” Ed practically bounces in his seat with excitement. “Including blue meth!”

“Hey guys,” Dean says as he takes a seat next to Charlie.

“What up, Dean?” Charlie nudges him lightly with her elbow. “Not sitting with your friends today?”

“Naw, I figured I’d join Sammy.” he says. “A little bonding time, y’know? You guys don’t mind right?” Ed and Harry share a suspicious look. They aren’t exactly friendly with Dean, but they’ve never done anything overtly rude. Last year, Dean bested both of them in Capture the Flag tournament at the end of the season and Ed took it kind of personally. Dean can’t imagine him holding a grudge over a little game though. He and Harry continue to have a silent conversation until Charlie jovially slaps Dean on the back.

“Of course you can join us,” Charlie announces, “Mi table es su table.” Ed and Harry give reluctant nods and continue with their previous topic.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbles as he grabs up a ketchup packet for his burger. “I couldn’t eat with those assholes around.” Charlie frowns deeply.

“Whoa, trouble in paradise already?” She asks, scooting her chair closer. “What’s going on?”

Dean shrugs. “Bartholomew and Dick started talking shit about Cas.” Dean admits. “Called him… some names.” Charlie’s eyebrows rise up in surprise.

“Eww,” she says. “Did you say anything to them?”

“I told them to leave him alone,” Dean answers. He picks up his burger, but sets it down when he realizes he still isn’t hungry.

“Do they know that you guys are dating?” Dean feels his face reddening in mortification.

“No, but… I mean I’m not hiding anything.” Charlie groans and shakes her head.

“But you didn’t say ‘leave my boyfriend alone?’” She asks. Dean shakes his head, feeling even worse than he did before. “Why not?”

“I don’t know… I just…” Dean sighs and shrugs. “I don’t know… I just wanted to get away from them.” Charlie rests her chin on her fist and considers this.

“Dean,” she says after a moment. “If someone had talked about Lisa like that last year, what would you have done?”

“Punched them in the face,” Dean admits reluctantly. “But Cas doesn’t need me rescuing him like that. He’s just… above it all, y’know. And have you seen his use his knives? He can handle himself.”

“It’s not about Cas needing protection,” Charlie argues. “It’s about you being proud of your relationship.”

“I am proud of my relationship!” Dean states.

“At school, sure. What about here?” Dean looks away, not able to answer her question. “Look, Dean, I can’t tell you what to do or whether or not to be ‘out’ here, but just think about this: What if the roles were swapped and Castiel didn’t come to your defense?” Dean’s frown deepens.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” he says. He looks up at her with a half-smile. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“Calling people on their bullshit is just one of the many services I offer,” She replies.

“Hey Dean, what are you doing here?” Sam drops down into the seat next to him.

“I thought I could have lunch with my little brother. Is that a crime now?” Dean asks, punching him in the arm.

“Aww, brotherly bonding. Ain’t that sweet?” Gabriel coos, setting his tray down opposite Sam. “I try to bond with Castiel and he sticks leeches in my bed.”

“I wouldn’t really call practicing your moving-target-knife-throwing  on him ‘bonding.’” Sam counters.

“Meh.” Gabriel gives an apathetic shrug. “Our family has their own traditions. Father and Uncle Crowley do it all the time.” he turns his attention to Dean. “By the way, where is _mon frere_ at the moment?” Dean lifts his gaze and glances around the hall. Cabin Ten eats at the same time as them; they should be here by now.

“I have no idea,” Dean mumbles. “They left the lake before- Oh, there they are.” Castiel and Meg lead two neat rows of children through the cafeteria line. Dean admires the way Castiel’s ass looks in the flowy, black shorts he wear. Castiel’s eyes light up when he catches Dean looking at him and Dean can’t help throwing a cheeky wink in his direction.

“Um, Dean? Could you not eye-fuck my brother in public, please?” Gabriel asks. “It’s weird.”

“We weren’t eye-fucking,” Dean says. He aims a french fry at his head, but Gabriel manages to catch it in his mouth.

“Whatever you say, man,” he snarks. Castiel leads his campers to their table before whispering something to Meg. She gives Dean a side-long glance, but smiles and nods.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says as he approaches the table. Dean scoots over and pulls out a chair for Castiel. “I apologize for our tardiness. We couldn’t get Jeffrey in the shower.” Dean nods and takes Castiel’s hand.

“No worries.” He says. Dean glances down at the table, brows drawing together. “Cas, where’s your tray?”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay for the lunch hour,” he admits. “I promised the children I would teach them insect collecting and framing. I have to prepare supplies for our excursion.” Dean’s expression drops.

“Jo can’t do it?” He asks. Castiel gives Dean a withering look.

“For all intents and purposes, this is my field of study,” he reminds him. “And anyway, Jo is with Jeffrey at the Nurse’s station. He insists he’s being poisoned and his genitals will fall off.”

“ _Wherever_ did he get that idea?” Gabriel snorts sarcastically. Dean frowns in disappointment. He thought with them both working here they would be able to spend more time together. As it is, they barely see each other. Dean misses his moments with Cas.

“Meg has suggested that she would be able to allow me early leave of the bonfire this evening,” Castiel adds. “If you’d like to meet then.” An easy smile crosses Dean’s face.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, Cas, I’d like that.” He reaches out and gives Castiel’s hand a squeeze as he leaves. Dean turns back around to see everyone at the table staring at him.

“What?” he asks, thoroughly confused.

“You guys are so grossly cute,” Ed replies.

“Hashtag heart eyes,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“Oh my God, they are so much worse at school!” Charlie laughs. “You have no idea!” Dean rolls his eyes and snags a grape off of Charlie’s tray. The conversation flows with laughter and easy teasing. Dean can’t stop looking back at Cas’ table and smiling, eager to get away with his boyfriend tonight.

 

* * *

 

As soon as the kids start into the first chorus of “Sloop John B”, Dean sees his opportunity to get away. His campers are occupied with the music and Michael watches over them like a hawk. Bartholomew and Dick crack jokes back and forth, but they seem to be paying some attention to the group. If there was ever a time when he could get away, it’s now. Dean taps Michael on the shoulder.

“Hey, um… Do you think I can skip out on this?” He whispers.

“You’ve got plans, Winchester?” Michael asks, giving him an  inquisitive look. Bobby’s warning about fraternization echoes in his head, but it’s not like he and Cas will be having sex. He just wants to spend some much-needed quality time with his boyfriend. He gives Michael a hopeful look.

“Uh, sorta,” he admits.“I’m meeting a friend.” Michael eyes him carefully and gives him a knowing grin.

“Got some girl already?” he asks, “Nice.” Dean gives him a weak smile and returns a hi-five. Michael waves him off and he escapes from the amphitheater, taking the stairs two at a time.

Castiel waits for him near the main flagpole, a blanket tucked under his arm and a heavy flashlight in his hand.

“Heya Cas,” Dean says as he approaches him. “What’s with the blanket?”

“Meg suggested I bring it,” Castiel says, glancing down at his arm. “She also recommended a  location we visit tonight.” Dean looks at Castiel doubtfully.

“Meg did?”

“She said it was the perfect spot in case we wanted to ‘get freaky,’” Castiel replied, making air quotes around the words. Dean chuckles and takes his hand.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he says, “But we can check it out all the same.” They walk hand in hand into the darkened forest, the flashlight illuminating the barely-cleared path. Dean keeps his ears perked up, listening to the sounds of the woods around them. Something skitters across their path, causing Dean to jump back into Cas.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims, clutching at his chest.

“Are you frightened, Dean?” Castiel asks wryly, holding the flashlight up under his chin and casting eerie shadows across his features.

“That thing shot out right in front of us,” Dean offers in excuse. “Do you know how many things out here could kill us: Bears, mountain lions, coyotes… Bears?”

“Dean, I assure you, you have no need to be concerned over those things,” Castiel says. “You are far more likely to die of exposure out here than at the hands of some animal.” Dean stares at him, unblinking.

“It’s _after_ you die that the scavengers will come,” Castiel continues. “And, of the ones you mentioned, that would only include the coyotes. Of course, I suppose you could group maggots in that assessment-”

“Ok, Cas,” Dean chuckles nervously. “I’m feeling very reassured, I promise.”

“I am at your disposal in this regard,” he replies. They continue on through the wood, Cas leading Dean by the hand. They don’t speak except for Cas’ warnings to watch his step or be careful of a branch.

The trees soon begin to thin out, opening up onto a clearing. It’s just a wide circle of grass sandwiched between the thick line of trees with a chain link fence at the far side.

“Is this some kind of secret hideout of Meg’s?” Dean asks. He thought he knew about all of the secret spots on camp.  

“I take it you’re not familiar with this place?” Castiel asks. Dean shakes his head. “Meg said that it technically belongs to the neighboring camp.” He points the flashlight a the fence, lighting up a “No Trespassing” sign. “I’d be wary about staying too long.” Dean gives Castiel a doubtful look as he hands over the flashlight.

With a flick of the wrist, Castiel shakes out the blanket, setting it gracefully on the grass before them. Dean sets it down the flashlight and finds a spot to sit in the center of the blanket.

“Care to join me?” He pats the spot beside him. Castiel takes a seat, modestly tugging at the edge of skirt as he does. The soft fabric grazes along the edge of Dean’s palm. His fingers itch to reach out and touch the smooth skin of Castiel’s bare calves, but he retracts his hands instead.

Castiel’s eyes drift upward, studying the stars above them. Dean watches his face for a moment, admiring the way the light of the half moon gives his skin an ethereal glow.

“You like astronomy?” Dean asks, letting his hand rest over Castiel’s. He hums in thought and gives a slow nod.

“Yes, I suppose,” Castiel says. “I do enjoy some of the histories and tales behind the constellations. Murder, violence, torture… What’s not to like?” Dean snorts and shakes his head warmly. He lays back and stretches out across the blanket. He tugs at Cas’ wrist, encouraging him to move closer. Castiel glances down at Dean inquisitively before following his lead, lying perpendicular on the blanket and resting his head on Dean’s stomach.

The evening air is just cool enough to be comfortable but Castiel puts off a surprising amount of body heat. Dean can feel sweat rising to his skin where Castiel’s head rests, but he refuses to move.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dean mumbles after a few minutes.

“As am I, Dean,” he replies. He reaches up for Dean’s hand, tangling their fingers together.

“If you like, we can try doing this more often,” Dean continues. “Getting away like this. Michael was cool with me leaving. I’m sure he won’t have an issue with it.” Castiel’s hands still for a moment before continuing to move against Dean’s.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll make Meg aware of the situation.” Another moment of quiets stretches between them. Dean lets his eyes slip closed, enjoying the feeling of Cas beside as his hand falls across his chest. Castiel twists around, moving around until he is curled into the spot under Dean’s arm, his head on his shoulder.

“Dean?” Castiel asks, receiving a hum in acknowledgement. “What did you mean earlier when when I mentioned Meg’s comment?”

Dean opens one eye to looks at him. “Huh?”

“When Meg said this would be the right spot to ‘get freaky,’ you said ‘I don’t know about that.” Castiel explains. “What did you mean?” Dean’s mentally scrambles for an answer. Sex had never really been a topic of conversation between them before. Was Castiel testing him?

“Um… Well, I meant that… uh, I don’t think we’d,” he swallows hard, “Meg assumes we’d have sex or something, and I... don’t.”

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” Castiel pushes up on his elbow, staring at Dean with wide, blue eyes. Dean could almost laugh at the how unaffected he looks asking such a loaded question.

“Cas,” Dean begins. “We don’t have to do any-”

“Because I would like to have sex with you,” he replies abruptly, catching Dean off-guard. Dean sits up, trying to wrap his head around this information.

“Cas, if you’re doing this for-”

“It’s a simple question, Dean,” Castiel’s says, suddenly stearn. “Yes or No.” Dean blinks in surprise by his abrupt tone. He rubs at the back of his neck, trying to push past the awkwardness.

“Well yeah,”’ he admits. “I mean, you get my motor running, sure,” Castiel purses his mouth and considers this.

“But we don’t have to.” Dean continues quickly. “I’m cool with how things are, if you don’t want-” He’s cut off by Castiel’s lips and an enthusiastic kiss.

“Dean, do not presume to know what I do or don’t want,” Cas says, drawing back from the kiss. “I am telling you that I’d like to have sex with you.” Dean takes a look at their surroundings.

“Here?” he asks.

“Well, perhaps at a location that is more comfortable,” Cas replies. He moves closer, lips grazing the soft scruff of Dean’s cheek. “But in the meantime…” Dean’s breath catches as Castiel trails kisses over his jaw and down his neck, whispering words Dean doesn’t understand into his skin.

“What brought this on?” Dean asks. He doesn’t want to ruin a good thing, but he is curious what flipped this switch. Castiel pulls back, his eyes bright even in the darkness, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You,” he says, voice just above a whisper.

“Me?” Dean asks.

“You,” Castiel shrugs and averts his eyes. “I don’t… It’s uncommon for me to want somebody sexually. I’m not repulsed by sex, but…  I don’t crave it, either.” Dean opens his mouth to protest once more, but Castiel gives him a look, cutting him of.

“But it’s different with you,” Cas continues. “I want that feeling and that connection… I just _want_... and I only want you.” A soft smile breaks out across Dean’s face.

“You get my motor running too, I suppose,” Cas adds quietly. Dean gives an affectionate laugh as he moves forward, cupping Cas’ face in both hands and pulling him in for another heated kiss. Castiel’s hands fly to Dean’s chest, clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt. He sighs into Dean’s mouth, turns his head and deepening the kiss. Dean’s hands wrap around Cas's’ waist, pulling him in closer until he is practically in his lap. Dean takes the initiative, his tongue delving deeper into Cas’ mouth.

“Who’s out there?” A voice shouts across the field. Dean and Cas part abruptly, heads turning in the direction of the sound. “Whoever’s out there, this is private property!”

“Shit,” Dean mutters, jumping to his feet and pulling Cas up with him. They flee back into the woods, hands clasped tight together,  blanket billowing behind them, and the light from the flashlight bouncing across the trees as they run.

It shocks Dean that they make it back to camp as quick as they do. They pause as they reach the edge of the wood, hoping to stay out of sight of the campers filing out of the amphitheater. They catch their breath, chests rising and falling in unison. The adrenaline drop of their escape has Dean lightheaded. A giddy chuckle rises from his throat which soon turns into hysterical laughter. Castiel covers Dean’s mouth in an attempt to muffle the noise as he tries to hold back an amused smile.

“Dean,”  he hisses in warning. It’s clear from the shake of his shoulders, he’s holding back a laugh as well. Dean pulls Castiel into his arms. They stand in the darkness until their laughter fades to happy sighs.

“We better get back to our campers,” Dean mumbles. Castiel nods against his chest.

“Agreed,” he says as he plants a soft kiss on Dean’s lips. They walk back to Dean’s cabin in comfortable silence.

“I guess I’ll see you at breakfast,” Dean says, handing the flashlight back and giving Cas's hand a final squeeze. Cas nods and walks off in the opposite direction toward his own cabin. Dean walks up the porch steps, stopping short when he notices Michael lurking in the dark off to the side.

“Hey,  Michael,”  Dean says, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing out here?”

“Stress relief,” Michael replies, indicating the cigarette in his hand. “Have fun tonight?” He tips his chin up in Cas’ direction.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, a wry grin pulling at his mouth. He moves to open the cabin door, but stops and turns to Michael.

“Hey, um.. I just say thank you for earlier.” Michael’s brow furrows in confusion. “At lunch. Dick and Bartholomew were talking crap about Cas and you made them stop. Thank you.” Michael nods and taps his cigarette on the porch rail.

“Yeah, well those guys are asshole.” he mutters. “That kid a friend of yours or something?” Dean hesitates for a moment but summons his nerve.

“He’s my boyfriend,” He says. Michael raises his head and looks at Dean, brows furrowing together.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “My boyfriend.”

“Really?” Michael draws the cigarette to his lips and hums in acknowledgment.

“I’m, uh, going to get to bed,” Dean says after an awkward moment. He moves past Michael and pushes open the cabin door.

“Good idea,” Michael agrees calmly as he stubs out his cigarette on the fence rail. “We should all get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.” Dean isn’t sure what he means, but he waves in acknowledgement as he moves toward his bunk.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took forever, but between editing my DCBB and trying to write on vacation, I'm shocked I got this done when I did. 
> 
> As always, many thanks to [Interncastiel](http://interncastiel.tumblr.com/) ( [artsiel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/artsiel/pseuds/artsiel)), who co-parents this AU with me. Please check out her amazing [Art](http://artsiel.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Also, don't forget, [WednesdayAddamsCastiel](http://wednesdayaddamscastiel.tumblr.com/) has a blog too

Dean wakes the next morning to the lights being flicked on throughout the cabin.

“Alright guys, up and at ‘em.” Michael shouts out. “We have to get moving.” Dean groans and cracks one eye open. Outside their window, it’s still pitch black. He reaches for his phone and looks at clock, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes to make sure he’s not misreading it.

“It’s 5 a.m.” he grumbles. “Breakfast isn’t for another two hours.” Michael takes hold of his comforter and yanks it off the bed. Dean whines and curls in on himself against the chill.

“Not going to breakfast,” Michael says. “We’re doing a sunrise hike. C’mon! Get your butt out of bed!” He shakes Dean’s shoulder until he twists around, flailing blindly, trying to bat him away.

“Alright, alright,” Dean grumbles, leaning back against his arms. “I’m up! I’m up!” Dean climbs off the bunk, passing Dick and Bartholomew, who seem just as enthused as he is to be awake. They brush their teeth and dress quickly before herding two dozen sleepy campers out of the cabin.

“Is it really a good idea to do this without feeding the kids first?” Dean asks, glancing back at the line of campers. “What if one of them passes out?” Michael smirks and slaps his backpack.

“We’ve got enough granola bars to feed an army. They’ll be fine,” he says. Dean frowns but continues to follow behind Michael. The sun is just barely breaking over the horizon by the time they reach the fork on the trail that leads them back to camp. Dean starts to take a left when a sharp whistle breaks through the air.

“Winchester!” Michael calls out. “Where do you think you’re going?” Dean stares at Michael in confusion.

“Back to camp…?” he replies, but Michael shakes his head in response.

“We’re not done,” he says. “We’re heading to Carver Lake.” Dean’s blinks in surprise. Carver lake is at least another hour hike. He doesn’t have a watch or his phone on him, but judging from the sky, it has to be at least 6 a.m.

“We’re not going to make it back for breakfast in time,” Dean says, his voice laced with disappointment.

“Hence the granola bars,” Michael says. “For the love of God, Winchester, stop thinking with your gut for once.”

“Yeah, Winchester,” Dick gives a derisive snort as he walks past. Dean is frozen in his steps, until Bartholomew passes and punches him hard in the arm.

“Quit standing around with your dick in your hand,” he mutters. Dean glares at him but wordlessly brings up the rear of the group. A granola bar is throw in his direction and he catches it with one hand. He’s too pissed off to eat though; he’s going to miss Cas at breakfast now. As if their time together isn’t slim enough, now Michael wants to cut into it with fucking “sunrise hikes.” Dean looks toward the head of the line where Michael obliviously trudges along, leading a marching cadence.  

“This is bullshit,” he mutters.

 

* * *

 

 

They don’t return to camp until almost 8:30 a.m. Dean helps shuffle an exhausted group of campers back to their cabin and then bolts for the chow hall. By the time he gets there, the last few stragglers from the early breakfast are on their way out of the building.

“Dammit,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. Cas probably thinks that he ditched him. Dean spots Bobby talking to one of the cooks near the back door of the.

"Hey Bobby!" Dean calls out as he jogs toward him.

"It's Director Singer, Dean," the older man mutters. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that." Dean rolls his eyes. As if they haven't spent long Saturday afternoons watching telenovelas together instead of cleaning the gutters like Ellen asked.

"Whatcha need, boy?" Bobby asks.

"Uh, have you seen Castiel around anywhere?" Dean shoves his hands nervously in his pockets.

"Dean, I got well over 300 campers and staff in my charge," he replies flatly. "I ain't got time to play bloodhound for you and your friends."

"Do you know where Cabin Ten is then?" he asks in exasperation. Bobby eyes him for a moment before flipping through the clipboard tucked under his arm.

"Looks like they are doing sports and fitness this morning." He replies, glancing over a spreadsheet. "Pretty sure, I heard Meg mention the volleyball courts."

Dean smiles. "Thanks, Bobby," He slaps the older man on the back hard enough to send him lurching a step. Bobby shoots Dean an exhausted glare, but doesn’t say a word as he turns his attention back to his clipboard.

Dean runs across camp toward the sand volleyball courts. He hears the game before he sees it, Jo's grunts and shouts echoing throughout the wood.

"Get it, Kate," she shouts at a lithe, blond-haired girl. Kate easily serves up the ball with two hands, allowing Jo to spike it hard over the net and nearly missing Jeffrey's face.

"I call foul!" Meg yells, her own position mirroring Jo's on the opposite side of the net. "You touched the net!"

“Did not!” Jo snaps back. Her and Meg argue back and forth until they spot Dean.

“Hey!” Jo’s face brightens as soon as she sees him. “What happened to you this morning? We missed you at breakfast.” Dean rolls his eyes in exasperation.

“Michael got this bug up his ass last night and decided we _had_ to go on some pre-dawn hike.” Dean explains. He cranes his neck, searching the group. “Uh, is Castiel around?”

“Charlie asked with his help on the archery range,” Jo replies.

“Did you have fun last night, Winchester? You look a bit tired.” Meg asks with a wry grin as she grabs up the ball by her feet. Dean gives her a hard glare, willing her to shut up. "How'd you like that spot?"

"It was fine," Dean mutters. Jo looks between the two of them, confused.

“What are you talking about?” she asks, face scrunched together.

“I’m just giving Dean a little shit,” Meg says with a wink. “Go find your boyfriend." She reaches down and tosses the ball to one of the kids on her team. "Claire, you're up."

Dean waves goodbye as he darts off toward the archery range.

As soon as he reaches it, he spots Castiel behind a long row of campers armed with bows and arrows. He wears a thin, charcoal tank top and a pair of dark jeans, still holding his ubiquitous black umbrella.

“That’s good, Sam. Be careful of the twist of your shoulders when you draw back, you’re veering right,” Cas instructs as he walks along the line of archers. “Don’t lock your elbow, Tracy.” Dean nods hello to Charlie, who stands next to a small boy, helping him set his arrow on his bow.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says with a soft smile as he approaches him. “I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“I’m so sorry I missed you this morning at chow time,” Dean apologizes, taking hold of Cas’ hand. “Michael thought an early morning hike would be a good idea.”

“You don’t owe me any sort of apology Dean.” Castiel insists, setting his umbrella against the side of the equipment shed.

“Yeah, but I said I would see you-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas replies gently. “I assumed your absence was due to some group activity since your entire cabin was missing.” Dean’s mouth clamps shut; it figures that Castiel would come to the most obvious solution.

“... Either that or a deadly fire engulfed your cabin, but I didn’t hear sirens, so that scenario was unlikely.” Dean snorts; Or Cas would come up with _that_.

“Yeah, well, I would’ve much rather been with you”  Dean says, “I can try to get away at lunch?” A furrow of concern appears on Castiel’s brow.

“Unfortunately, we have art everyday this week.” he says. “I promised Meg I would set up the projects and that requires the lunch hour.” Dean’s face drops.

“You’re not even going to get to eat?” Cas shakes his head.

“Meg will make sure I have the chance,” he explains. “The canteen provides box lunches.”   
Dean expression shifts down in a pout, but Cas takes his hand. “Don’t make that face.” he says. “We can see each other-” An arrow zips through the air between them, embedding itself in the side of the shed. “Gabriel!” Castiel whips his head around and glowers at his brother, who sheepishly holds a bow in his hand.

“Sorry, sorrry,” Gabriel says, holding up a defensive hand. “It was an accident, I swear.” Castiel narrows his eyes at him, but doesn’t say a word. He turns his attention back to Dean.

“Dinner time?” Dean asks hopefully. A smile quirks at the edge of Castiel’s mouth and he nods.

“Yes, I’d like that,” he replies. Dean rubs a thumb over Castiel’s knuckles.

“Y’know,” Dean murmurs, taking a step closer, “if you want, we can meet up again tonight… Maybe find that spot again?” Castiel’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes light up with excitement.

“Yes, Dean I think that-” Another arrow narrowly zips between them, but this time Castiel catches it automatically in his fist. “Gabriel, I swear on all things holy-”

“It slipped!” Gabriel whines.

“Turn back to your target,” Castiel gives a terse orders. “I apologize, Dean. I need to to refocus my attention on the campers.”

“Yeah, I better get back, too,” Dean admits with a tinge of disappointment, “before Dick and Bartholomew launch into a food fight.” Castiel nods in understanding and gives Dean’s hand a squeeze. He picks up his umbrella and opens it over him.

“I’ll see you later, Cas,” Dean pulls the umbrella down, concealing them as he leans forward and plants a brief kiss to Castiel’s lips before running off. He takes a moment to look back, grinning at the shy blush that fills Castiel’s cheeks.

 

* * *

 

 

The second shift breakfast has already filled the chow hall by the time Dean arrives.

“Nice of you to show up, Winchester.” Dick chides.

“Blow me, Roman,” Dean mutters under his breath, setting his tray down and taking the seat next to Michael.

“You’re late,” Michael says, not looking up from his plate.

“Yeah, I wanted to say hi to Cas,” Dean replies as he digs into his food. Michael glances at him curiously but doesn’t say a word. Breakfast is quiet for the most part; Bartholomew and Dick elbow and tease each other, but nothing gets out of hand. Dean’s mind floats back to the night previously and the way Cas kissed him and touched him. Hearing him say that he wanted Dean felt like a revelation. Dean has never thought he would hear the words _“I want to have sex with you”_ come out of Cas’ mouth. The way he said it was so matter of fact and blunt, it shouldn’t be sexy, but Dean finds himself shifting in his seat, trying to control his growing member.

“You ok there, Dean?” Michael asks, glancing over at him. “You’re all fidgety.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just restless,” Dean covers.

“Well, put that energy to good use,” Michael says, shoving a spreadsheet in his direction. “Let me know what you think.” Dean stares at the paper; It’s an activity schedule, “Cabin Three” labeled across the top.

“What is this?” he asks.

“We’re switching our activity slots,” Michael says, “and moving to the second shift meals.”

“What?” Dean stares at him in disbelief.

“There is a new wave of campers coming in this week,” Michael explains. “Director Singer wants to avoid delays and overcrowding at certain activities and mealtimes. He’s doing some reconfiguring. I volunteered our cabin.”

Dean’s eyes flick down to the spreadsheet. His expression darkens as he realizes the this schedule means he won’t see Cas anymore throughout the day. Meals were practically the only time they had together.

“What?... I don’t understand. Why would you just make his decision without talking to us?” Dean asks, just loud enough so that a few heads turn in their direction. Michael stops chewing and stares at Dean.

“Why would I need to?” He asks. “I just rearranged the schedule. The activities didn’t change.”

“Yeah, but... “ Dean exhales through his nose. “But what if we want to see our friends or something.”

“That’s what the bonfire is for, Dean,” Michael explains coolly.

“But that’s just once a week!” Dean presses.

“For Christ’s sake, Winchester,” Michael hisses, lowering his voice just enough for Dean to hear. “Would you get a grip? It’s just a schedule change. Just because you want to play grab-ass with your boyfriend, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to cater to you. Stop thinking with your dick!” Dean’s jaw drops open at the unexpected tirade. He stares down at his plate, abashed. Michael has repeatedly snapped at Dick and Bartholomew, but never at him.

Dean racks his brain as Michael turns his attention back to his food. If he doesn’t show up to dinner, he’ll have missed another meal with Castiel. He rises from his seat and grabs his tray off the table.

“Where are you going?” Michael asks.

“I’m done. I’m going back to the cabin. I’ve got to… prepare some things for the day,” Dean says. “Is that ok?” Michael looks suspicious for a moment, but his expression softens and he nods.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean moves away from the table, drops the rest of his breakfast into the trash, and deposits his plates and utensils in a nearby bus tub. He exits the chow hall and stomps across the lawn, shoulders hunched in anger. He can’t believe Michael would do this. It’s not uncommon for cabins to switch off activity schedules, but even Raphael had the decency to give them a heads up. It might have been last minute, but he could have at least _asked_. Dean mutters under his breath as he walks toward his cabin, earning strange looks from the campers he passes.

"What's up, Winchester?" He spots Meg walking towards him, a dingy sack of volleyballs thrown over her shoulder. Dean shoots her a glare and keeps walking. He's in no mood to trade barbs right now.

“Whoa, what’s with the hostility?” Meg asks, hurrying after him. “I thought we were cool now that Clarence and I are besties?" Dean groans and scrubs a hand down over his face. As much as he doesn't get along with Meg, she doesn't deserve to bear the brunt of his anger toward Michael. Plus, she did do him and Cas a solid by letting him out for a night and cluing them into their spot.

"Michael switched our cabin schedule to second shift." he sighs.

Meg grimaces. "I'm guessing this is going to put a dent in your quality time with Cas, huh?" Dean exhales heavily through his nose and nods.

"The whole point of his coming here was so we could see each other over the summer," he grouses. "We're not even going to see each other at meals. Hell, we're not even on the same Capture the Flag team!" Meg purses mouth to one side and considers him.

"You don't need to worry about seeing your boy," she assures. "I'll make sure Cas is able to get away." Dean gives her a grateful smile.

"Thanks."

"And I tell you what, I'll even do you one better," Meg continues. "I'll switch cabins with you." Dean looks at her doubtfully.

"I don't think Bobby would let me be a lead yet," he says.

"Not as a lead, dumbass," Meg replies, rolling her eyes. "For the Flag tournament. I'll take your spot with Cabin Three and you can be on Cas' team." Dean's expression twists in confusion.

"You'd do that?" Meg looks away and gives an aloof shrug.

"Sure, why not?" she says. "I like Cas and , despite what you might think, I'm not that much of a bitch." Dean raises a doubtful eyebrow.

"I'm _not_!" she insists. "God, I'm doing you a favor. You should at least a little grateful, not insulting me."

"I am," Dean admits, "I really am. I'm sorry. Thank you." Meg nods in acceptance and re-shoulders the sack of volleyballs.

"You're welcome. Now, I've got to get these put away and get back before Ruby and Jeffrey lead a revolt against Jo. You want me to pass the message onto Cas that you'll be absent at dinner?"

"Yeah. Could you?" He asks.

"Sure thing." A sly grin spreads across Meg's face. "Want me to let him know that you’ll meet him later tonight." Dean considers this and nods.

"Yeah, I would," he says. Meg gives a lazy salute with two fingers. Dean watches as she walks off, his mood somewhat lifted. Michael's decision still bothers him, but at least he won't miss Cas entirely. Tonight, Dean thinks with a smile, as he walks off toward his cabin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel brushes a second coat of lacquer over Meg's fingernail, scraping any excess paint away from the edges with his thumbnail.

"Damn, Clarence," Meg says, examining her hand. "You are really good at this."

"I should be," he replies as he takes hold of Meg's other hand and dips the brush in the bottle again. "I've been doing manicures for both my mother and father since I was ten." Meg looks at him curiously.

"You're parents weren't big on gender stereotypes, I'm guessing." Castiel stops mid-brushstroke and considers this.

"I suppose not," he answers. "But sexuality and gender weren’t ever things I was taught to feel shamed for. Pastels on the other hand…” Megs snorts as Castiel continues coating a nail. A dark-haired girl settles down on the bench next to Meg.

“Did you already finish painting your bowl, Alex?” Meg asks, eyes not leaving her hands as she watches Castiel work.

“Yeah, it sucks, but my mom will like it anyway,” Alex replies with a shrug. “Hey, can you do me next?” She points as Meg’s hand as Castiel twists open the bottle of top coat. Castiel glances up at Meg, who shrugs.

“Hey, doesn’t matter to me,” she says.

“Alex, get back to your table,” Jo orders. Alex rolls her eyes but stands up and returns to her seat.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” Jo asks, placing her hands on her hips.

“It’s art time,” Meg says with a grin, holding up a finished glossy hand. “We’re painting.” Jo rolls her eyes.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters, shaking her head. Meg gives Jo a pointed look as she blows on her nails softly.

“Hey, Clarence,” Meg says, eyes flicking down to Jo’s hand, “Why don’t you take a look at Jo’s nails?” Jo opens her mouth to protest, but Meg grabs her by the arm and pulls her toward her vacated seat.

“No arguing,” Meg orders, waving her hands in front of herself to dry them. “I’ve got the kids. You. Sit.” Castiel glances at Meg for a moment, before grabbing hold of Jo’s hand and examining it.

“Do you bite your nails?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” Jo admits after a moment. Castiel runs the pad of his thumb over one of her fingers in a clinical movement.

“Your cuticles aren’t healthy,” he says. Jo grunts but doesn’t say anything as Cas picks up an emory board and begins shaping her nails. She watches Cas works in silence for several minutes before piping up.

“So you are an expert in bugs, biology, tangoing and now nails?” She asks, raising a curious eyebrow. Castiel meets her eyes but continues to work, moving onto her left hand.

“Except for entomology, I don’t think I’d call myself an expert in any of those areas,” he gives a flat reply. “I have interests and skills, that’s all.” Jo gives a dissatisfied hum.

“And manicures happen to be one of those,” she says with an impertinent look. Castiel pauses mid-swipe of the file.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” he asks.

“Like you care,” Jo snorts.

“I don’t,” Castiel respond, “but I am curious as to why. I’ve never done anything against you. Are you envious of my relationship with Dean?” Jo gives an incredulous scoff.

“Oh My God! Are you kidding?” Jo laughs. “Dean is basically my older brother.”

“Do you feel I am not worthy of Dean’s affections?” Castiel sets down the emory board and picks up the buffer.

“I don’t care who Dean dates,” she responds, shifting her gaze away.

“Do you feel that my reputation is not up to par with that of Dean’s?”

Jo gives a heavy sigh. “I don’t really care. That doesn’t matter to me at all!” she insists.

“But you still don’t care for my presence.” Castiel reiterates.

“Why is this such a big deal?!” she snaps. Meg glances across the room over at them with a curious look.

“Is it really that important that I like you?” Jo says quieter.

“Dean means a great deal to me,” Castiel admits, “and you mean a great deal to him.” He hesitates before answering, gathering his thoughts. “So, to some extent, yes.” The admission leaves Castiel feeling slightly vulnerable, but Jo gives a rueful smile.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, Cas, but I don’t _like_ a whole lot of people,” Jo replies. Castiel pauses in buffing a nail and looks up at her in confusion. “I’m serious. It’s pretty much Charlie and Dean. That’s it.”

“I see you with Garth or Ash quite often,” Castiel offers.

“Garth is friends with Charlie,” Jo says, “and Ash is my cousin. That doesn’t count.” Castiel hums in understanding as he moves to buffing the nails on the opposite hand.

“But with other people… I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I bounced around schools until I was 14. I never really had a chance to make friends. For the longest time I was just the weirdo with a knife collection. I have a hard time relating to other people I guess… Does that make any sense?” Castiel glances up at her, a smile just curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, I believe I understand,” he answers as he finishes buffing her thumbnail.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Jo says, giving Cas a wry look.

 

* * *

 

 

Groups of campers huddle together on the floor of the chow hall, sleeping bags piled around them. One of the other counselors fiddles with the DVD player remote as another hands out little bags of popcorn for the after-dinner movie. Dean flicks off the lights and sidles up next to Michael along the back wall.

“Hey,” he whispers to him as the opening scene of “Guardians of the Galaxy” starts playing. “Do you think I can get out of here for a little while?” Michael gives Dean a side-eyed look.

“You got somewhere important to be, Dean?” he asks.

"Yeah, I, uh, was hoping to meet Castiel in a little while," he replies. Michael's jaw clenches and his mouth forms into a hard line.

"No can do," he says, "We're short staffed tonight. Need all the counselors we can afford on hand."

"Short staffed?" Dean grimaces as he scans the room, counting nearly a dozen leads and junior counselors dotted along the walls. "We've got to be at a six-to-one ratio at least. There are more than enough chaperones for me to take off."

"Ratios don't-"

"The kids are just watching a movie." Dean presses. "They'll be asleep halfway through, anyway."

"We all have to make sacrifices-" Michael says finally.

"Please, I already promised-"

"I said no!" he snaps, several heads turning toward them in reaction. Michael's nostrils flare as he stares Dean down.

"Sit down, Dean," he mutters. Dean’s mouth claps shut in stunned silence. Michael had practically pushed him to take a night off yesterday and now he all of a sudden has a problem with it? He slinks away, his eyes never leaving Michael, and finds a seat near the back of the group.

The campers stare wide-eyed at the screen, enthralled by the movie. Dean glances up at the clock hanging on the wall. He's supposed to meet Cas in less than an hour and he has no way to tell him that he won't make it. Dean curses himself for leaving his cellphone back at the cabin, but it's not like Castiel has his phone anyway.

"This sucks," Dean mutters to himself indignantly. There are at least seven other counselors, including himself. Michael has no idea what he's talking about.

Dean's eyes drift to Dick and Bartholomew, both munching popcorn and immersed in the film. Michael chats with another lead, his back turned.

Dean gets to his feet and moves toward the back wall, inching toward the exit. If Michael thinks for one second Dean is going to stand up the guy he loves, he is out of his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel flicks his flashlight off and on into the night sky. His attempts to contact aliens by sending them threatening messages in Morse code have been unsuccessful so far, but at least  it passes the time while he waits for Dean.

He once again glances to the spot where the forest path breaks into the clearing. Dean should have arrived by now. It must be well past 9:30 pm.

He flicks his flashlight a couple more times. "Bite... Me..." He mumbles as he spells out the words. A rustle from between the trees grabs his attention and he sees Dean step out of the path.

"Hello Dean," Castiel says as he sets down the flashlight.

"Hey Cas." Dean grins and pulls a stray twig from his hair. "Sorry I'm late. I had to make a sneaky escape."

"It's alright," Castiel says, scooting across the blanket to make room for Dean. He drops down next to Castiel, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“You

"I missed you today," Dean mumbles."Sorry I wasn't at lunch. Meg passed on my message, then?"

"Considering I'm here, I would assume so," Castiel replies with a deadpan expression. "Of course clairvoyance runs in my family, so that's always an option."

"Smartass,” Dean says, leaning forward and tipping Castiel's chin in his direction. Their lips meet gently and Castiel finds himself sinking into the kiss. Dean leans forward, his hands landing on the blanket and just grazing the edge of his leg.

"I love this skirt on you,” Dean whispers against Castiel's lips, fiddling with the dark lace. His fingers hesitantly move to Castiel's thigh and Dean’s lips pause, waiting for Castiel to make a move.

Castiel deepens the kiss, leaning into Dean's touch so that his hand moves further up underneath his skirt. A soft moan escapes Dean's lips.

"Cas," he sighs, "Are you sure-?"

"Toccami, mi amore," Castiel murmurs. Dean hesitates, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Just touch me, Dean," Castiel clarifies, taking hold of his shirt and pulling him forward. Dean topples over Castiel as he falls back against the blanket. He braces himself up on his elbows until Castiel winds a leg between his and shifts them onto their sides.

They kiss lazily, their tongues sliding over one another. Dean obliges Castiel’s request, his hands sliding up and down his thigh, moving further each times. Castiel shifts, and the heavy evidence of Dean's arousal presses against his leg.

Dean gasps his name and pulls him closer, hand moving underneath the skirt and squeezing a handful of his backside. Castiel inhales sharply and grows more aggressive with his kissing. He catches Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth as he draws away, enjoying the way Dean’s expression lights up with a mixture of arousal and wonder.

Dean pulls away, his breath heavy in Castiel’s ear and he leans their temples together.

"Cas, I-" A hand grips hold of his shoulder, tearing him away from Castiel and cutting him off mid sentence.

"Winchester, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Michael towers over both of them with a vicious look in his eye. "I thought I was clear when I said there was no leaving."

"I, uh-" Dean blinks vacantly up at him.

"Get up," Michael growls, grabbing Dean by the arm and hefting him to his feet. "You!" He glares at Castiel. "Back to camp, now!" Castiel stands, picking up blanket and flashlight as he does, his eyes locked on Michael. He walks in the direction of the trail, eyes flashing back to Dean.

"You stay here," Michael orders, clamping a hand onto Dean's shoulder as he turns to follow. "I need to talk to you alone. You, back to camp. Now!" He tips up his chin in direction of the path. Castiel hesitates for a moment, but departs with a mumbled goodbye.

He catches one last look of Dean, Michael's hand still clenching his shoulder, before turning and disappearing down the path.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Cas leave, Michael turns to Dean.

"Michael, I-"

"Shut up." Michael says flatly. He directs Dean to the opposite side of the clearing. Dean's stomach is a painful ball of nerves as he imagines what his punishment might be. It's early enough in the summer that Dean hasn't been witness to Michael's brand of punishment, but he wasn’t anticipating being the first.

Michael removes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, extracting one out and lighting it. He takes a long draw off of it before speaking.

"Dean, I'm disappointed," Michael begins. "I made it very clear what was expected of you and-"

"You had more than enough people," Dean interrupts. "You didn't need me there and I-"

"I'm not finished." Michael's voice is calm but stern. "You have certain expectations now. You're not a first year anymore. When I saw I had you on my team, after all the glowing things I'd heard from Raphael, I thought I had someone who was going to live up to that image." Dean stares at him in confusion, shaking his head.

"You had no problem with me skipping out last night," he says.

"True," Michael nods, flicking ashes off the end of the cigarette, "and once or twice is fine, but you can't go running off every night, especially when I said explicitly not to." Dean's nostrils flare in anger, but he knows better than to argue the point.

"Look," Michael continues, looking at Dean seriously. "I'm not trying to be a hardass, really I'm not, but you have a a lot of potential. I want you to be my second for the summer." Dean perks up at that.

"Are you serious?" He asks. Being a second would mean authority and not having to deal with Dick and Bartholomew’s bullshit. Dean would be able to decide what the campers do. Maybe he could coordinate group activities with Meg and get to spend a little more time with Cas.

"Sure am." Michael nods. "but I need to know that you take this seriously, that this is more than just a vacation for you."

"It is," Dean insists. He does take this job seriously. He loves working with the campers and spending the summer outdoors. Michael's words remind Dean of something his Dad would say, and it causes a prickle of guilt to settle at the back of his mind.

"I believe you," Michael says, patting his arm, gently this time, "but I need you to follow through." Dean gives a terse nod in response. Michael drops the cigarette to the ground and stubs it out.

"We should head back," he says. "I'm still going to have to make a report to Singer about this."

"But-"

"No buts." Michael holds up a finger in warning. "No exceptions. Man up and take responsibility for your actions."

"Alright," Dean mumbles. Michael turns on his heel and move toward the trail.

"You're a good kid, Dean," he says as Dean catches up with him. "You just need to learn what's important and what's not."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to publish. I basically wrote and rewrote this chapter a couple times . As always, thank you to [Artsiel](http://artsiel.tumblr.com/) for beta reading and always being a source of inspiration and ideas.
> 
> Warning for brief homophobic and transphobic language.

Dean sits outside Bobby’s office. He can hear the older man’s low growl drifting out from behind the closed door followed by Meg’s soft, lilting voice as they work out Castiel’s punishment. Dean knows Cas is in the room as well; he keeps an ear perked up for Castiel’s voice but never hears it. Dean glances down the hall, wondering if Michael is going to show up. Normally, when a junior counselor gets in enough trouble to see Bobby, their lead accompanies them as an advocate of some sort. Even Raphael made an appearance after the whole Lisa debacle last summer

Dean jumps back in his seat as the door opens abruptly. Meg leads Cas out of the office, shooting him a quick wink as they pass. Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s for a moment before he follows her down the hall. Dean opens his mouth to say goodbye, but he’s cut off without warning.

“Dean, get in here!” Bobby yells out. Dean rises to his feet, takes one last look down the hall, and walks into Bobby’s office.

Bobby rubs at his temples and removes a bottle of Tylenol out of his desk drawer. He shakes out a couple tablets, shooting them back down his throat dry. He glances at Dean as he enters, giving him a withering look.

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy?” he starts. Dean takes a seat in the chair opposite, giving a listless shrug in response. “You more than anyone know our rules about leaving the property.”

“I swear to God, we didn’t know we weren’t on camp property.” It’s not entirely a lie; it’s not like there were actual lines drawn on the ground. Bobby crosses his arms in front of him, unconvinced.

“So you’re saying that you hiked two miles through the border woods and assumed it was still on our land?” Dean shrugs again and nods. Bobby gives a heavy sigh and drags his hand down his face.

“Boy, be straight with me.” Dean can't hold back a snort at that. “Can you keep it in your pants for one goddamn summer? I should’ve known better than to let your boy stay when I found out about you too, but I trusted that you would’ve matured some since last summer.”

“This is not like Lisa!” Dean protests. “We were just kissing a little. We weren’t doing anything!” Bobby holds up a hand to stop him.

“Save it. Your lead already reported what he saw. Gave me all the details.” Bobby replies. Dean sits back, silent. “I was ready to toss your boy out. Only reason he’s getting a second chance is because Meg said she would find a suitable punishment and keep a close eye on him.” Dean’s blood runs cold.

“You were going to throw out Cas?” he asks. “He didn’t do anything, though! Sneaking off was my idea.” Bobby raises an eyebrow.

“Michael seems to think that Castiel kid is something of a bad influence on you.” Bobby admits. “Can’t say I disagree.” Dean’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Bad influ- Are you kidding? Cas is a fantastic influence.” Dean sits forward. “My grades this year were the best they’ve ever been thanks to him. Ask Mom and Dad!”

“Well, I can’t speak for your schooling.” Bobby scratches a hand beneath his worn trucker cap. “But Michael says you’ve been distracted, slouching your responsibilities-”

“That’s not true!”

“Quit interupting me, boy!” Bobby snaps. “All I’m saying is you gotta keep your nose clean. Same goes for Castiel. If I hear one more thing about either one of you two trouncing about or causing trouble, I’m sending you packing. Same goes for Castiel. Especially, for Castiel." Dean is speechless. Bobby wouldn't really send Cas home, would he? Dean mumbles a sheepish "yessir" under his breath as Bobby rises from his seat and comes around the desk.

"Now, about your punishment," he says, leaning halfway against the desk. "I'm going to have you help in the kitchen for a few weeks. You'll be doing that rather than your normal counselor duties." Dean frowns. The idea of being cooped up in a hot, damp kitchen for weeks is not appealing, especially as the heat index slowly starts to creep into the high 90s. "You're going to listen to Frank. Do as he says."

"You mean that old dude in the hair net who's always ranting about GMOs and preservatives?" Dean asks. Bobby looks annoyed by Dean's assessment, but he doesn't disagree.

"Just help the guy out and stay out of trouble," Bobby continues. "In the meantime, Dean, can you cut down on the hanky panky? No PDA and definitely not skinny dipping, alright?" Dean nods and follows Bobby as he gets to his feet.

"Good boy," he says. "Any other questions." Dean looks away and rubs at the back at his neck.

"Uh... Are you going to tell my mom and dad?" he asks nervously. Bobby sighs and levels a stares at Dean.

“I won’t tell your folks. _This time_.” Bobby says. “Just don't get mixed up in something like this again. You’re a good kid, Dean. Got a good head on your shoulders.” He slaps Dean on the back as he leads him out the door.

“C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Frank.” Bobby says.

 

* * *

 

Castiel sits at the deteriorating moss green picnic table outside the back door of the chow hall. He idly spins his umbrella between his fingers, waiting for Dean to arrive as he’d promised. Charlie had stopped by the art barn earlier  this morning and passed Castiel a note with his name across the front in Dean’s neat scrawl. He has’t seen Dean in two days, not since they passed each other outside Director Singer’s office.

A strange feeling filled Castiel as he held the note in his hand, like a warm ball of light pulsing in his chest. Castiel had always been proud of his independence and solitude, but is was difficult for him to resolve the gaping hole he felt by Dean’s sudden absence, especially since his presence had become something of the standard. Holding Dean’s note in his hand  just made Castiel… Happy.

How ghastly!

Castiel read the note a few times, taking in the details of their rendezvous, before stuffing the paper into his mouth and eating it. One can never be too careful with subterfuge.

He doesn't react as the ancient screen door swings open with a bang. Dean steps out of the kitchen, a wave of humid air following behind him. His skin is flushed and clammy and his thin white t-shirt clings to him as he twists his arms around to untie the apron from his waist.

“Hey, Cas,” he greets with a tired grin, pushing a spike of damp hair off of his forehead.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, rising to his feet. He closes his umbrella and rests it against the side of the table as he moves toward Dean. Castiel stops short as a hand is held up at chest level.

“I wouldn’t hug me. I’m kind of sweaty right now.” Dean explains. He tugs at his shirt to demonstrate. Castiel gives a brief shrug.

“I don’t care,” he says as he moves into Dean’s extended arms. The ball of warmth in his chest seems to grows as Dean wraps his arms around him and presses his face into Castiel’s hair. Castiel turns toward Dean’s neck, the salt of his skin lightly clinging to his lips.

He tilts his head up, searching for Dean’s mouth. He doesn’t miss how Dean hesitates for a moment, before relaxing and planting a soft kiss against his lips. He leads Castiel back to the picnic table so that they sit across from each other, hands wound together.

“I was curious as to what your punishment was,” Castiel begins, breaking the silence.

“Three weeks of KP,” Dean sighs. “It sucks. It’s hot as balls in there.”

“That sounds unpleasant.” Castiel offers

Dean nods. “Yeah, but it could be worse,” he replies. “Last summer, Ash dropped cherry bombs into a couple of the toilets in the boys room. He nearly destroyed the camp’s septic system. Bobby made him clean up the mess on his own and then permanently banned him from camp.” Castiel hums in acknowledgement, but knowing what he does of Ash, the story doesn’t surprise him.

“What about you?” Dean asks, giving Castiel’s hand a small squeeze. “Bobby said Meg was going to come up with something.”

“Yes, that was the proposed plan,” Castiel replies with a nod. “Although, I have yet to be told what my punishment is. I believe Meg is ignoring the suggestion.”

“Really?” Dean asks.

“My assumption is that she feels responsible,” Cas winds his fingers betweens Dean’s methodically.

"Well, she is the one who told us about the spot," Dean replies.

"True, but it was our choice to leave the property," Castiel argues. "She said she may have some less-conspicuous locations for us to use in the future, if we like." Dean laughs ruefully.

"Probably will have to wait," he says. "Even if I wasn't in trouble, whole camp is on lock down right now.” They fall into silence once more. Dean holds up Castiel's hand, admiring the freshly painted nails.

"Green?" He asks. "You usually do black, yeah?"

"I thought forest green was rather fitting, considering the surroundings," Castiel explains, glancing up at the coniferous trees towering over them. "Also, Meg and Jo finished off all of my black laqueur a few days ago."

"Jo painted her nails?" Dean’s jaw hangs open. "I thought she usually chewed them all down to the nubs.

"I painted Jo's nails," he corrects, "and yes, she does, but the manicures seem to curb that. I'm hoping that the more we paint them, the less she'll destroy them."

"Well, good luck with that," Dean laughs. Yelps and laughter begin to drift down the road as groups of campers make their way toward the chow hall. Dean sighs and shakes his head.

"I better get back inside to help Frank before he bursts a blood vessel." They both stand and Dean draws Cas toward him one more time.

"Sorry our date was so short," Dean mumbles. Castiel gives a limp shrug. "If you want, we can meet up after the last dinner shift. I’ll finish up early and we eat together." Dean glances down at him, raising the an eyebrow in a questioning manner. Castiel pulls closer, nodding his head against Dean's chest.

"I'd like that," he says softly. They stand together until a sharp whistle cuts through the air.

"Dean," Michael calls out as Cabin Three comes into view. Castiel tenses, shifting his eyes down. Dean pulls away from his hold and waves at Michael in acknowledgment.

“I’ll be right there,” he says. He rolls his eyes as he turns back to Castiel. “He’s insisting I eat with them at lunch. As if I don’t have enough to do.”

“I’m sure your campers appreciate it,” Castiel offers. Dean smiles  at him.

“Always looking for the positive side, Cas,” he teases.

“Take it back,” Castiel says, narrowing his eyes. Dean scrunches his face and plants a kiss on the center of his forehead.

“I’ll see you around dinner,” he says as he grabs his apron from the table. “Can you be by here around 7:30?” Castiel nods and gives a brief wave as Dean disappears inside.

Castiel opens his umbrella and follows along the side of building. He glances up at the lovely overcast sky, allowing himself a rare smile. His mind drifts to tonight, awaiting his time with Dean..

As he rounds the side of the building, something jerks Castiel to the side, ripping his umbrella from his hand.

“Nice umbrella, Fag,” Castiel turns, glaring at a vaguely-familiar junior counselor twisting the umbrella between his fingers. “You know it’s not raining yet, right?”

“Nah, Roman, it’s for the sun.” Another blond-haired junior counselor sidles up next to him, “Our little _genderbender_ here is a vampire.”

“Yeah, but it’s not sunny either,” Roman replies, pulling the object closed.

“Please return my umbrella,” Castiel says coolly. “And in addition to being very offensive, the term you used is incorrect. My gender has never been in quest-”

“Um… you’re wearing a dress, freak,” The blond one interrupts. Castiel rolls his eyes and lunges for the umbrella.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Roman says, holding the umbrella above his head and out of Castiel’s reach. “Say the magic word.” Castiel takes a step forward, narrowing his eyes.

“You should know,” Castiel’s voice is barely above a whisper, “that I have an in-depth knowledge of the human circulatory system.”

Roman snorts. “So what? You going to try and drink my blood or something?”

“I am also have training in Krav Maga.” Castiel continues. “One brief hit to your carotid artery, if strong enough, would knock you unconscious. After that, you’d be entirely at my mercy.” Roman’s eyes widen minutely in fear.

“The fuck is this guy’s problem?” the blond junior counselor mutters, his face scrunched in confusion.

“Harris! Roman!” Both turn at the sound of their names. Michael approaches the three of them, arms crossed over his chest.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“He’s threatening us,” Roman blurts out, his voice wavering momentarily. Michael turns his gaze on Castiel.

“I was asking for my umbrella back,” Castiel says. Michael looks at Harris and Roman.

“You two. Inside. Now.” He snatches the umbrella out of Roman’s hand as he and Harris escape into the building. Michael glares at Castiel before handing the umbrella over.

“Stay away from my junior counselors,” Michael says stiffly. “ _All_ of them.”

Castiel reaches for the umbrella. “They antagonized _me_.” A humorless smile crosses Michael’s face.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Michael says. “but even if that were true, it’s not like you didn’t have it coming.” Castiel tips his head to the side as he considers this accusation.

“Michael, do your issues with me stem from your internalized homophobia, your latent sexual attraction toward men or transgender individuals,” Castiel asks, “or is there some other psycho-sexual hang-up causing this hostility?” Michael blinks in surprise, taking a step back. In an instant, his expression darkens. He grabs the umbrella out of Castiel’s hand, snapping it over his knee without warning.

“Fuck you, you freak,” he hisses, knocking into Castiel as he passes. Castiel stares down at the remnants his umbrella in disbelief. It had been his Great Uncle Joshua’s umbrella before the fatal lightning strike and was considered a family heirloom. Castiel has no idea how he’s going to explain the damage to his parents.

He gives a sad sigh and kneels down to scoop up the pieces. He gingerly tucks them under his arm and turns down the road toward his cabin.

 

* * *

 

 _“Stay away from my junior counselors. All of them.”_ Dean stops, midway through removing his t-shirt, at the words. Michael’s voice is unmistakable as it drifts in through the ventilation window above his head.

 _“They antagonized me.”_ That’s Cas. Dean tugs his shirt off the rest of the way off and tosses it to the floor of the cramped staff bathroom. He navigates the space, pressing against the wall near the window in hopes of hearing more. Michael and Castiel’s voices are just low drones until a loud snap cracks through the air followed by Michael grumbling “Fuck You, Freak.” Dean strains to hear more, but the only sounds are the wind through the trees and the shuffling of feet. He pulls on a clean shirt and rushes out of the bathroom.

“Cas!” Dean calls out as he steps out of the back door. He jogs along the side of the building, searching for his boyfriend. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean spots a dark shape walking toward the cabins.

“Cas,” Dean calls out again, hurrying in his direction. Castiel stops and looks back at him, his eyes rimmed-red and watery. “Castiel? What’s wrong?”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he mutters.

“You’re crying.” Dean mumbles in disbelief. Castiel rarely displays strong emotions, remaining aloof most of the time. Seeing his face streaked with tears is disconcerting. Dean steps forward, pulling Cas’ hands away from his chest.

“Is this…?” Dean asks, extracting the broken pieces of metal and wood that was once Castiel’s umbrella from his hands.

“Michael did not appreciate my evaluation of his personality,” he replies. Dean’s expression hardens as he stares down at the remains. He has had about enough of Michael’s shit. As if it wasn’t bad enough he was talking crap about Cas to Bobby, now he has to go out and actually attack him.

“The fuck is his problem?” Dean mutters.

“He’s a lesser species,” Castiel sighs, “And his pea-sized brain can’t adjust to anything past his own purview.” Dean looks up at Castiel, but his expression is still bitter and angry.

“I’m going to talk to him.” Dean turns on his heel.

“Dean, don’t.” Castiel grabs him by the arm.

“I can’t just let him get away with this, Cas,” Dean huffs.

“I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.” he counters. “I can handle this situation on my own.”

“You mean like you handled the thing with Zachariah?” Dean raises a questioning eyebrow. Castiel hesitates on answering, a sly look in his eyes.

“Similar,” he finally says. Dean snorts and takes Cas’ hand.

“At least let me try and talk to him first,” he says, “He’s my lead, he should be my problem, especially since I have to spend the entire summer with the guy.” Castiel purses his mouth, but acquises with a nod.

“Fine,” he says. Dean gives him a soft smile and squeezes his hand.

“You want me to walk you back?” he asks.

“I’ll be fine,” Cas mumbles, shaking his heads. He leans forward and plants a soft kiss on Dean cheek. Dean watches walk down the road before turning and walking back toward the chow hall.

He needs to have words with Michael.

 

* * *

 

“Dean!” Joyful cries of his name ring out through the bustling dining hall as he reaches Cabin Three’s table. Dean makes an effort to smile as he greets his campers, ruffling a few heads as he passes. He makes a beeline for Michael.

“Dean,” Michael says with a terse nod in greeting. “Where’s your tray? You should be eating.”

“Can I have a word with you?” Dean asks, his irritation barely contained. Michael meets his eyes for a second as he chews his food and nods.

“Roman, Harris, keep an eye on everyone,” he orders as he rises from the bench. Dean leads him through the cafeteria and out the front door.

“What’s up, Dean?” Michael asks as soon as they are out of earshot of anyone who might be lingering outside. “Have you been thinking about my offer?” Dean takes a deep breath, focusing his frustration and anger before speaking.

“No, I haven’t,” he answers. “Do you have a problem with my boyfriend?” Michael’s expression pinches.

“Excuse me?”

“What issue do you have with Castiel?” Dean repeats. Michael rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“Dean, who you are banging is none of my business,” he replies.

“You’re damn right, it’s not!” Dean snaps. “So explain to me why you are going out of your way to intimidate him.” Michael’s nostrils flare for a moment, but his face quickly returns to its neutral state.

“Dean, your boyfriend wants to play the victim and-”

“You told Singer he was a bad influence on me?” Michael’s expression stiffens.

“I stand by that.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “But just because you and Castiel were breaking the rules and I happened to catch you doesn’t mean I’m out to get-”

“I just heard you threaten him!” Dean exclaims. “You… You broke his damn umbrella, for Christ’s sake.” Michael abruptly drops the defensive attitude, giving Dean a long-suffering look.

“It’s an umbrella,” Michael says with a shrug. “He can buy a new one.” Dean shakes his head in disbelief.

“What the hell is your problem, man?” he mutters. Michael stares at Dean a long while, a strange little smile crossing his face.

“I’m doing your friend a favor.” Michael states. “Y’know, he might be able to get away with this gothic-forest-fairy-weirdo-shit in high school, but in the real world? He’s going to get eaten alive.” Dean shakes his head in disbelief.

“You’ve got no fucking clue what you're talking about,” he says. “Castiel is the most capable person I’ve ever met. He’s got more talent in his fuckin’ little finger than most people have in their whole bodies.”

Michael gives a derisive snort. “You think that’s going to make an ounce of difference?” he asks. “Unless he plans on attending some fucked-up liberal arts school, anyone he meets will take one hard look at the dude in a dress and write him off completely. Your boyfriend needs to learn you’ve got to get in line or get run over.” Dean’s mouth turns into a hard line and he steps into Michael’s space.

“You stay the hell away from Castiel and from me,” he orders. “If you even look at Cas the wrong way, I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Dean?” Michael snears. “Fight me? You and Castiel both have strikes against you. Either one of you step out of line and you’ll be sent packing. Let’s think for a second what would happen if you were sent home and Castiel was still here.” Michael flashes a haughty smile at Dean’s shaken expression. He can’t let that happen. Yeah, Meg and Jo would look out for Cas if he asked, but Michael could easily get most of the camp on his side. Dean swallows hard.

“Just stay away from him,” he mutters as he takes a step back. “And you can forget your fucking offer.”

“Oh c’mon, Dean, don’t be like that,” Michael gives an exasperated groan.

“Fuck you!” Dean calls out as he stomps off back around the building. The kitchen back door slams behind him. Frank looks up from his desk, phone pressed to his ear, and gives Dean a strange look.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, but Dean waves him off. He grabs a clean apron off the shelf and steps behind the dishwasher, hoping to scrub away his frustration.

He should have seen this. Michael’s behavior has been all over the place, and it always seemed to directly affect Dean and, now that it’s been pointed out to him, Castiel. Dean pushes a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead as he viciously scrapes the brillo pad along the side of a pot.

“Whoa, hold up there, Dean,” Frank lays a hand on his arm, slowing his movement. “You’re going to take the finish off.” Dean looks away, muttering an apology under his breath.

Frank glances at his wristwatch and then at the clock on the wall. “It’s quarter ‘til one. Ain’t this your lunch hour?”

“Not hungry,” Dean mutters, picking up the scrubber and returning to his work, slower this time. Frank watches, frowning in confusion.

“Fine,” Frank sighs. “Just... try not to take your frustration out on the pans too much. They’re expensive.” Dean glances at Frank and nods. He falls into the rhythm of his work, getting lost in the scent of hot metal and steam.

 

* * *

 

The screen door creaks as Castiel steps inside the muggy kitchen. He searches the kitchen, calling out Dean’s name, but he can’t even hear his own voice over the blaring rock music reverberating off the tiled walls. He follows the sound of rushing water toward the dishwashing station, spotting Dean in the far corner, angrily flinging flatware into a sorting tray.

“Dean,” Castiel calls out, his voice drowned by the noise. “Dean!” Dean gives a violent start as Castiel touches his arm and grabs at his chest with a gasp.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims, as he reaches up and turns down the dial on the radio. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel replies. “I take it that you forgot about your invitation for this evening.” Dean’s face shines with a layer of sweat and dark, wet patches mark his under arms and down the front of his shirt.

“Ah, Dammit!” Dean groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’m so sorry, Cas. I completely forgot.”

“It’s alright,” Castiel mumbles, but his words betray the pang of neglect he feels.

“No, it’s not alright,” Dean huffs, tearing off his apron. “I really wanted to show you a nice time tonight and then Michael was being an asshole and saying all this terrible shit-”

“What did Michael say?” Castiel asks.

“Nothing I want to repeat,” Dean mutters. He moves behind the dishwashing station and switches off the water. “I was just so angry. I was ready to beat him to a pulp.”

“So you worked yourself into a frenzy instead?” Dean gives Castiel a soft smile and takes his hand.

“Give me five minutes to change and I’ll make it up to you.” he says.

“You don’t have to do-”

“I want to.” Dean glances up at him, his features worn and tired. “You deserve at least one real date, and I’ve failed twice today so far. C’mon, let’s  look through the freezer. I think Frank is squirreling away some goodies back there.” He pulls Castiel’s hand to his lips for a kiss.

Dean manages to find some cold cuts and puts together a couple club sandwiches and chips for their dinner. Castiel watches him work, amused by the care he takes in the presentation of the meal. Dean is so careful in setting out the plates and silverware, arranging the food just so, he even finds a couple emergency candles, placing them on the prep table between him and Castiel.

“For ambience,” Dean explains with a chuckle.

“You know that you didn’t have to do this,” Castiel says. “We could’ve arranged for another day.”

“Yeah, but...” Dean sighs. “Seeing you has been the best part of this shitty day.” He raises his head and gives Castiel a knowing look. “And I know it’s been a shitty day for you as well.” Castiel looks down at his hands, unable to deny this.

“Yes, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before and I need to remain the cooler head in the matter,” he says. “As much as I can, anyway.”

“So no threats then? You haven’t been tempted to pull out you throwing knives for practice?” Dean snorts. Castiel bites at his lip in hesitation.

“I didn’t say that,” he replies. Dean shakes his head.

“I wish I could do something,” he mutters, “but Michael says if I so much as look at him wrong, he’ll have me thrown out.”

“It would get you away from him,” Castiel adds.

“Yeah, but then that would mean leaving you here,” Dean says. Castiel offers up a rare smirk.

“I assure you, I can handle myself,” he says coolly.

“I know,” Dean replies. “I do, I swear but… you shouldn’t have to.” Castiel raises a doubtful eyebrow. “Look, if the tables were turned…” Dean trails off and Castiel gives a reluctant nod.

“Yes, yes, I see.” They sit there, neither one touching their food. The soft candlelight flickers off Dean’s features and highlighting the sun darkened freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“I just wish there was a way to put Michael in his place,” Dean sighs. “If anything happened to him, he’s going to look at you or me first.” Castiel considers this for a moment before his eyes light up with a thought. He leans across the table, closer to Dean.

“Well, there _are_ ways, Dean,” he mumbles.

“Cas, we can’t touch him.”

“Who said anything about touching him?” Castiel asks. “Dean, do you doubt my abilities at taking revenge?” Dean looks Castiel straight in the eye, snorting as he shakes his head.

“I may have an idea on how we can get back at Michael.” Castiel continues

“And he won’t be able to tell it’s us?” Dean asks.

“Dean, the best torturers never get their hands dirty.” Castiel’s mouth curls at the corners. Dean raises an eyebrow, giving him a concerned look. “It’s something Meg said a few days ago. For legal reasons, it’s better if I don’t extrapolate on it.”  Dean sits back, blinking in confusion, before grinning broadly.

“Well, I’m in,” he says. “Just tell me what you’ve got in mind.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long updates are taking, folks. Thank you for sticking with me and reading this, in spite of the time between updates.
> 
> Also, please note the rating and tag changes, because, um... well, you'll see

The midday sun glints across the forest floor, peeking out between the thick ceiling of pine branches that tower over Dean and Cas’ heads. Castiel carefully navigates through the underbrush, Dean trailing behind him.

"So what are we looking for exactly?" Dean asks as he side-steps a felled tree. "You said you had a plan."

"I do," Castiel answers with assurance. "We want revenge on Michael and, since I am lacking my usual supply of toxins and cutlery, we will have to use the natural resources around us." Castiel stops and crouched down in front of a plant. He carefully examines the leaves, frowns, rises to his feet and walks on.

"So like what? Poison ivy in his bed?" Dean asks. "Psychedelic mushrooms in his spaghetti?" Castiel glances back at Dean, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

"No, not those," he replies with a head shake. "Psilocybin mushrooms aren’t native to this area and poison ivy...?" Castiel sighs. "Is so _cliche_. Also, placing it in his bed would make it evident he is being targeted.

"So?" Dean asks, reshouldering the heavy messenger bag Castiel had handed him before they left. “So what if Michael realizes he is being pranked? The dick deserves it.”

“Dean there is a subtlety to effective revenge. It’s an art really,” Castiel explains, tenting his fingers in front of him. “This is not some slap-dash prank. We want to make Michael feel like the world is out to get him." Dean notes a strange look on Castiel's face; he looks almost gleeful at the prospect. Dean sidles up to him, nudging him playfully.

"Whatever you want, baby," he says. "So what did you have in mind?"

"Ideally? Cimex Lectularius.” Dean’s face pinches in confusion. “Bed Bugs," Castiel clarifies. "They consume blood, resulting in cimicosis, can reproduce at an alarming rate, and are nearly impossible to eradicate. Even a small group of them would have repercussions for months, if not years, for both Michael and his family."

“That’s extreme,” Dean replies, “but I like it. So, where do we find these suckers then?" Castiel hums as he scans the forest around them.

"Unfortunately, they are nearly microscope. Our chances of finding them in the woods are nearly impossible." Castiel gestures to their surroundings. "Also, I'm somewhat adverse to the idea as you could possibly fall victim to the infestation."

"Somewhat adverse, Cas." Dean asks, not reassured by his boyfriend's word choice.

"Well, I wouldn’t plant the creatures in your bed," he explains, "but yes, there is a chance that you could be affected as well." Dean grimaces; he doesn't like the idea that the only reason Cas isn't collecting bedbugs to sic on Michael is that he can't spot them.

Dean flinches as a buzz tickles past his ear.

“Ah! A bee!” Dean shouts as he jumps back a foot.

“It certainly is,” Castiel responds calmly, taking a step forward and reaching out for the insect. The bee floats in the sir for a moment before taking a gentle landing on the back of Cas’ hand. “Hello there, sir. How is your day?” Castiel turns his hand, examining the creature.

“That’s an idea,” Dean says. “We could get a bunch of bees, release them in the bathroom while Michael is taking a shower.” Castiel’s head jerks toward Dean and he shoots him a cold glare.

“Dean, this is a honeybee. It’s not aggressive and will dies if it stings something.” Dean flinches at the reprimand and steps behind Cas’ shoulder to look at the bee.

“That looks like the bee in my room,” Dean says.

“Yes, it is close to the same species,” Castiel says. He lifts up his hand and gently blows a puff of air at the bee, sending him flying.

Dean and Castiel keep walking through the woods, search for an idea.

“Snake?” Dean offers. “Snakes could get in the cabin.” Castiel tilts his head to the side as he considers this.

“Perhaps,” he says, “Although, if it’s venomous, Director Singer will most likely call animal control to handle it. Well, what have we here?” Dean almost runs smack into Castiel’s back as he stops abruptly. He looks over Cas’ shoulder to what he is staring at.

“Ants?” Dean asks incredulously.

“That’s a fire ant hill, Dean,” Cas explains. Dean’s eyes widen as he takes a second looks at the mound of dry dirt. Sure enough, tiny rows of reddish brown ants scramble over and around it.

“Jar, Please, and the gloves,” Castiel says, holding out a hand in expectation. Dean flips open the flap and pulls out a mason jar and pair of heavy kitchen gloves. Castiel slips on the gloves and unscrews the lid. He kneels down about a foot away from the mound and begins to sweep the ants toward the mouth of the jar.

“That should be enough,” Castiel says as he dusts off the edge and replaces the lid. He hands the jar over to Dean, who gingerly hold the jar with two fingers, staring at the frantically scuttling mass inside. Just sight of them makes Dean’s skin crawl. Castiel snaps off his gloves and takes the jar from Dean.

“Come along,” he says, stepping past Dean and retreating the way they came. “We have work to do.”

 

 

* * *

 

It takes several tries, but Dean is finally able to unwedge the back window of the cabin. It opens with a high-pitched squeak. Castiel crawls up and slips inside the main room, the hem of his dress flipping up as he rolls across the floor.

“You could’ve come in through the front door,” Dean points out.

“We’re on a covert mission, Dean,” he replies, getting to his feel and smoothing down his dress. “We never know who’s watching.”

“No one’s watching. Everyone’s at the archery range. They won’t be back until after lunch.” Dean pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time. “Speaking of which, Frank is going to start wondering where I am.”

“This will only take a minute,” Castiel says. He opens the flap on his messenger bag and pulls out a small white baggie of powder, handing it to Dean. “Here. Open this and scatter it over Michael’s bed and the floor beneath.” Castiel pauses, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Put some beneath Roman and Harris’ beds as well.”

“What is this?” Dean asks, sniffing at the bag.

“Confectioner’s sugar,’’ Castiel answers, removing the jar and gloves. “The ants will swarm toward it.” Dean dips a finger into the bag and then taps it on his tongue, humming at the taste. He pinches a bit out and begins sprinkling it over Michael’s sheets.

“Only leave a fine layer on the floor,” Castiel instructs. “Just enough to get the ants attention.” Dean nods, continuing to spread the sugar across Michael, Dick, and Bartholomew’s beds.

Castiel unscrews the jar. “Go on, my little friends.” he mumbles as he shakes the dirt and insects out beneath the edge of Michael’s bed. “Enjoy your feast.”

“I think that covers it,” Dean says, zipping the bag closed. “Anything else we need to do?” Castiel turns and looks at him seriously.

“We need to do your bed as well,” he says. Dean’s eyes go wide.

“You want me getting eaten alive by those things?” he asks in disbelief.

“Of course not,” Castiel assures. “But if the ants surround every bed but yours, it will look suspicious.” Dean hesitates but gives a reluctant nod; Castiel has a point. He unzips the baggy and flicks a pinch of sugar toward the foot of his bed and beneath it.

“I don’t believe we need to plant any ants near your bed.” Castiel replaces the jar in his bag. “They’ll find their own way.” Dean smirks and hands the baggy back.

“Thanks for that, Cas,” he says. “I really need to get back to the kitchen, though. We should go.” Cas nods.

“Yes, we don’t want to arouse suspicion,” he offers. Dean goes to grab his hand.

“Through the door this time, Cas,” he says. Castiel purses his mouth but follows Dean’s lead out the front door.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean stacks massive cans of creamed corn in the dry storage, trying to focus on the task and not scratching the shit out of his legs.

“Dean!” Michael’s voice echoes through the kitchen. Dean sets the last can on the shelf and walks out of the storage room just as a blotchy-looking Michael rounds the corner.

Dean has to hold back a snort of laughter. The ants had done their job alright. Swollen red pustules cover Michael's face and arms and, from the way he'd been shouting early this morning, they were probably over most of his back and chest as well. Bartholomew and Dick didn't fair much better, but at least they hadn't run screaming and half-naked across camp.

"Hey Michael," Dean greets, attempting to sound casual. "You look like shit."

"No thanks to you," Michael spits out.

" 'Scuse me?"

"I know this is your doing," Michael says, pointing to his face. "You and that weirdo boyfriend of yours." Dean's heart freezes for half a second before regaining his composure.

"Wait? You think the ants in the cabin is my fault?" Dean asks incredulously.

"I know you and that freak did something," Michael replies with a bitter smirk. "This stinks of him. You wrangled up the fire ants and released them to attack us."

“Seriously, man, you’re blaming me for ants?” Dean asks. “We had a spider in the bathroom last week. Is that my fault too? We’re in the middle of the damn woods. Bugs come with the territory.”

Michael scowls at Dean, nostrils flaring. “You lead them there.” He argues.

“Do I look like Paul Rudd to you?” Dean asks. He extends out his leg, pulling up the cuff of his shorts. “They got me too, man.”

“Yeah, not nearly as bad as the rest of us,” Michael snarls, scratching at his face. “How’d you get so lucky?” Dean gives an exaggerated shrug.

“I don’t know,” Dean says. “Maybe because I’m not leaving food and junk around my bunk.” Michael glares at Dean taking a step forward.

“My bunk was spotless,” he hisses. “You are not fooling me for one second, you ungrateful little-” Dean tenses as Michael reaches for his edge of his shirt.

“Dean!” Frank comes around the corner of the kitchen. “Have you finished unloading those- uh… Am I interrupting something here?” Michael’s hand drops and he rights himself.

“No, sir” he says, eyes not leaving Dean.

“Well, get out of here then and stop bothering my employee,” Frank may be a paranoid nutcase, but at least he can be threatening when he wants to be. Michael gives an abrupt nod.

“I’m reporting this to Singer,” he mutters under his breath. “You’ll be out on your ass like _that_!” He snaps his fingers for emphasis as he turns and walks out.

“Have fun with that, asshole,” Dean says. Frank watches Michael leave before directing his attention to Dean.

“Finish unloading and then start on the breakfast dishes, alright?” Dean flashes Frank a grateful smile and nods, returning to his work.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Bobby laughed Michael out of his office,” Dean chuckles. “Said if he didn’t want to deal with bug bites, he shouldn’t have signed up to spend a summer in the middle of the goddamn woods.” The kitchen is quiet following the second dinner shift and the faint sound of laughter and chatter as campers are led to the weekly bonfire rises from outside. Dean sits atop a scuffed, metal prep table, carefully applying topical cream to the ant bites covering his calves and thighs.

Castiel makes an acknowledging noise in response. There is a sense of satisfaction that his tormentors have gotten their comeuppance, but a prickle of guilt still niggles at the back of his mind as he sees the extent of Dean’s injuries.

Dean catches him staring at his legs and gives a reassuring smile. “It’s really not that bad, Cas.” he says. “I’ve done worse to myself during football practice.”

“I still don’t like seeing you injured,” Castiel replies.

“This isn’t an injury, it’s a bug bite,” Dean points out.

“One that required you to go to the nurse,” Castiel argues.

“It looks worse than it is,” he replies. “And I thought you liked seeing other people getting hurt?” Castiel gives him a long suffering look.

“I don’t love other people,” he says, emphasizing “love”. A shy smile crosses Dean’s face and he sets down the tube. He reaches for Castiel’s hands and pulls him forward until he’s settled between Dean’s legs. He brushes his hand over Castiel’s jaw, lifting it until their lips meet in a gentle kiss, Dean’s tongue drags along the edge of Castiel’s lips but doesn’t press further. Castiel’s eyes flutter closed as he wraps his arms around Dean’s neck.

“I love you too,” Dean says, pulling back from the kiss, “and I am more than willing to endure a couple bug bites and some smelly cream for you.” Castiel hums against Dean’s lips and kisses him again, deeper this time. His tongue licks into Dean’s mouth hungrily. Dean groan into Castiel’s mouth, pushing himself off the prep table and onto the floor. Possessive hands wrap around Castiel’s middle and a rush of want runs through him and he digs his teeth into Dean’s bottom lip.

“Eager, Cas?” Dean chuckles.

“ _Amor Mio_ ,” Castiel murmurs. “ _Ho così tanto bisogno di te_.” Dean inhales sharply.

“God, I love that,” he breathes. Castiel moves closer, slotting their legs together and enjoying the way Dean’s breath catches as he does. Dean’s hands linger at the small of his back, twitching like they want to move further.

“ _Ti prego_ ,” he says, running his lips over the edge of Dean’s jaw. “Go ahead.” Dean’s hands drift down and Castiel gasps at the feeling of Dean’s rough fingers trailing beneath his skirt.

Castiel takes his mouth in a greedy kiss, his own hands sliding beneath the damp fabric of Dean’s t-shirt and bunching it up over his torso. Dean groans against his mouth. His fingers dig into the meat of Castiel’s ass, lifting him up in one swift movement, turning them, and setting him on top of the stainless steel table. The speed and ease of Dean’s movements catches Castiel off guard and a whimper escapes his throat, surprised at his pleasure of being handled in such a manner. Dean parts from the kiss with a pop, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Is this ok?” Dean mumbles. Castiel swallows and nods, running his hands over Dean’s biceps.

“Yes,” he finally breathes out. He tugs at Dean’s shirt, helping him as he wrestles it off over his head and drops it onto the table next to him. Their lips meet again, Castiel’s hands roaming over every inch of newly-exposed skin while Dean’s remain frustratingly locked on his backside. Castiel makes an annoyed growl as he grabs Dean’s hands and moves them to his thighs.

“Touch me, Dean,” he says. “I want it. I won’t break.” Dean gives a shaky nod and moves his hands over Castiel’s legs, pushing his skirt up further. Dean hands move in circles over the smooth skin of his thighs and Castiel flinches when Dean’s hand unexpectedly grazes over his erection. Dean tenses at the reaction and starts to pull away. Not wanting it to end, Castiel frantically takes Dean’s face in his hands and redirects him back into a reassuring kiss.

“ _Ancora_ ,” he whispers, meeting Dean’s eyes. “Touch me again, Dean.” He gives a brief nod and Castiel shudders as Dean’s hand cups his growing shaft. Castiel’s head falls forward, resting on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s own bulge presses against the side of the prep table helplessly. Castiel reaches down, deftly undoing the button on Dean’s shorts with one hand and unzipping them just enough to reach down and pull Dean’s cock from his boxers.

“Fuck, Cas,” he growls, pressing up into his grip. His hand moves faster of Castiel’s own cock, eventually tugging the silky black panties down and taking him in hand.

They pant against each other’s necks, occasionally breathing out a name. Castiel is dizzy with arousal, overwhelmed by the feeling of Dean’s hands on him and his breath in his ear.

“Cas, talk to me,” Dean murmurs

“I’m alright, Dean,” he says. Dean makes a dissatisfied grunt and shakes his head.

“In… that language,” his voice comes out halted as Castiel makes a twisting movement with his wrist.

“ _Ho un debole per te_.” Castiel gasps in Italian, earning a low moan from Dean. “ _Ho Bisogno di te_.” His voice stutters as Dean trails sloppy, hot kisses down the column of his neck.

“Yes,” Dean says, “More.”

“ _Sei inebriante_.” Castiel’s voice rises, echoing in the empty room. “ _My hai stregato_.” Castiel breath shudders as Dean’s swats his hand away and moves to take hold of both of their cocks. Castiel’s hands fly to Dean's shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin. A cry escapes Castiel's throat and he presses his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. A shiver runs up his spine and, without warning, he spills himself over Dean’s hand.

"Fuck," Dean chokes out, his whole body tensing as his orgasm follows a moment later. They collapse against each other, skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat. Castiel clings to him, pulling closer and squeezing his eyes tight in an effort to block out the fluorescent light above them.

“You ok?” Dean asks, rubbing soft circles over his back.

“Mm-hm,” Castiel answers. He slowly pulls back to look at Dean, tired green eyes, still wide with lingering arousal, staring back at him. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss, soft and lingering. Dean’s hands continue to smooth circles over Castiel’s back until the sound of a door slamming open causes them to jump.

“Dean are you still in here?” Frank calls out.

“Shit,” Dean mutters, frantically tucking himself back into his shorts and buttoning them. Castiel jumps off the table, fixing his skirt and smoothing down his hair as much as he can. “Uh… Yeah, Frank. Me and Cas were just hanging out.”

“Well, ‘lights out’ is in ten minutes. Wrap it up.” Dean snorts at Frank’s unintentional innuendo.

“Should we clean up?” Castiel asks, glancing back at the prep table.

“I’ll get it in the morning.” Dean gives a quick head shake. “C’mon. I’ll walk you back to your cabin.” Dean leads Castiel out of the kitchen, shutting off the lights and locking the door behind them. The walk across camp is quiet, save for the cricket song. They don’t say a word, but there is no discomfort in the silence; neither one feels a need to fill it.

“Time for goodnight,” Dean says when they stop in front of Castiel’s cabin. Castiel takes Dean’s face in his hands and presses a tender but hungry kiss to his lips.

“ _Domani, mi amore_ ,” he whispers.

“That language stuff is dangerous, Cas,” he chuckles.

“Would you prefer a different language?” Castiel asks. “French? German? Latin?” Dean cuts him off with another kiss.

“As long as you tell me that you love me in each of them.” he says.

“Always,” Castiel pecks him on the lips once more before reluctantly pulling away. Dean gives a small wave as Castiel climbs the porch steps and opens the front door.

“Well, hey there, honey bear,” Meg says as he steps inside the door, not looking up from her paperback book. The cabin is dark, save for a small desk lamp which casts eerie shadows over her face.

“You’re still awake,” Castiel says, sitting down on the chair beside her and beginning to untie his boots.

“I couldn’t sleep. Plus, someone ought to wait up for you.” She dog ears a page and glances up at Castiel. “Well, you looked well fucked-out. I take it you and Dean had some fun.” A cheshire cat smile spreads across her face.

Castiel blinks a few times in surprise. “Yes, we did,” he admits. Meg crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against her chair.

“Did he pop your cherry or did you two just mess around?” she asks. Castiel tilts his head in confusion, unsure of how to answer. Virginity is just a social construct afterall.

“I’m kidding, Castiel. You don’t have to kiss and tell.” Meg says, rising to her feet and heading toward the bedroom. “But if you do want to talk, I’m here, as is Jo.” She pauses for a moment in thought. “Although I’m not sure how comfortable she’ll be hearing about Winchester’s dick.” Castiel snorts softly and bids Meg a goodnight as he opens his own door and slips inside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean wakes to glaring sunlight shining into his eyes. He grimaces in his sleep, flailing to pull his blanket over his head, but instead hits something… wet?

His eyes snap open and he jerks upright. He has half a second of realization that he is stranded in the middle of the lake before the motion of his movement sends the raft he’s sitting on off balance, tipping him into the lake.

“Goddammit!” Dean shouts as he hits the water, the splash destroying the peace around him and sending a few birds in the trees scattering. Dean scrambles to break the surface, disoriented and still half asleep. His heart beats rapidly as he tries to get his bearings. He’s alone in the middle of the lake with only an old blanket and an inflatable raft, wearing just the boxer shorts he went to bed in, which are, of course, soaked. Dean hears laughter in the distance and glares toward the sound.

“Really funny, assholes,” He shouts toward the trees. He has no doubt this is Michael, Dick and Bartholomew’s doing, revenge for the ant thing. If he wasn’t the victim of it, Dean might have actually appreciated the prank.

Grumbling under his, breath he wades into shore, towing the raft and water-logged blanket behind him. He drops both items at the edge of the lake, looking around to see if those jerks left him any clothes. Predictably, they didn’t.

“Bastards,” Dean mutters to himself as he starts to climb the stairs that lead from the lake to the main camp.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean arrives at an empty cabin, the others already at breakfast. The walk across camp had left him shivering violently, still dripping lake water, and with aching bare feet. Dean glances at the clock and frown; Frank will no doubt be pissed that he wasn’t there this morning, but it’s not like Dean was able to call in. He hopes the older man might give him a pass on this one.

Dean tugs a blanket off of a random bed and throws it across his shoulders. He goes to his dresser to pull out a clean towel and some clothes, but is met with nothing.

The drawer is empty.

“Oh you have got to be shitting me?” he groans, pulling open the rest of the drawers in his dresser. Each one empty, except for the folded note at the bottom of the last drawer.

 _“Want your clothes? They’re waiting for you at the flagpole,”_ it says. Dean scrubs a hand over his face. He moves to Michael’s dresser and tries to open a drawer, but stops when he sees the chains and padlocks on each drawer, as well as Bartholomew and Dick’s dressers.

Dean curses under his breath, and winds the blanket around himself tighter. He pulls open the door and stomps out of the cabin. He tries to ignore the stares and snickers as he passes groups of kids and counselors heading to breakfast, focusing on just getting his stuff back. For a moment, A feeling of dread sinks in that they might’ve done something to Castiel as well and   
Dean has to reassure himself that Meg likes Cas and wouldn’t put up with Michael’s BS if he tried anything.

“Hey, Dean.” he turns when he hears his name, spotting Charlie and the rest of her campers walking in his direction. “Didn’t want to get out of bed today, Dude?”

“I woke up in the middle of the lake this morning, thanks to Michael and his minions,” he says. Charlie’s face draws down in concern. “And now I’m attempting to get the clothes they stole down from the flagpole.” Dean points to the pole in the distance, a black garbage bag hanging near the top.

“Geez, that’s some intense pranking,” Charlie says. “What did you do to earn that?”

“Nothing!” Dean insists. “... Nothing really.” Charlie looks at him doubtfully. “I mean, I wasn’t personally responsible for what happened…”

“Dean,” Charlie sighs.

“Me and Cas kind of, might have, set some fire ants loose in the cabin,” he admits.

Charlie’s eyes go wide. “Ouch.”

“And we… might’ve laced their beds with powdered sugar beforehand.” Charlie bursts out laughing.

“Oh man, I was going to ask what happened to Michael’s face,” she says. “That’s too funny, Dean.”

“Yeah, well it would’ve been a whole lot funnier if I weren’t walking across camp almost naked, and soaking wet.” He opens the blanket draped over his shoulders to show Charlie.

“Jesus, man,” she huffs. “C’mon, let’s get your clothes back.” Charlie grabs Dean by the hand and pulls him toward the flagpole.

Charlie cranes her neck, narrowing her eyes and examining the pole. “Well, it looks like it’s attached to the rope, at least,” she says as she circles around the flagpole. “Should be easy enough to get it down.” Charlie unwinds the rope from the cleat, releasing it and lowering the camp flag and the attached bag. As soon as it within reach, Dean snatches it from the rope.

“Oh my god, finally, I’m- wait… wait, what the Hell is this?!” He pulls his hand from the bag, a handful of crumpled newspaper in his fist. He opens it wider and searches inside, finding only more crumpled up newspaper and trash.

“What’s this?” Charlie plucks up a white note card taped to the rope. “ _‘Hope floats. Sure hope your clothes do.’_ ” Charlie gives him a pained look. “Dean I think you may have pissed off the wrong people.” Dean takes the card and reads it again.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouts in exasperation, causing several heads to turn his way.

“Watch the language, Dean. There are tender ears present.” Charlie points randomly at the younger campers milling about outside the chow hall.

“I gotta go,” he mutters, turning on his heel and walking back in the opposite direction. Charlie goes to follow after him, but Dean throws up both hands, stopping her with a headshake. “I’m fine, Charlie. Just go be with your campers. I’m fine. You don’t have to stick around.”

“The hell I’m not!” Charlie exclaims. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff.” They head back to the lake, Dean walking carefully, he still-bare feet painful with bloody cuts. Charlie offers encouraging words and supportive glances, but Dean isn’t in much of a mood for talking.

He spots an island black garbage bags floating at the center of the lake about halfway down the stairs. Michael and his group must’ve taken advantage of the misdirection to place it almost exactly where he was before.

“I can go grab it for you,” Charlie offers, already stripping off her t-shirt to reveal her swimsuit underneath.

“Nah, no reason for both of us to be cold and wet,” Dean says, throwing off the blanket and walking toward the dock. He dives in gracefully and frog strokes as fast as he can to the center of the lake. He finds with some relief that the bags are duct taped closed, but grumbles to himself when he hears his text tone chime from within.

“My phone? Really, guys?” Dean grumbles. Once again, he side-strokes to the shore, towing the bags behind him. He swims toward the dock, where Charlie waits, helping him heft each bag from the water.

“Dude, I’ve seen some pranks before,” Charlie says as she offers her hand to help pull Dean from the water, “but this is extreme. You need to report this to Bobby.” Dean opens the bags, immediately grabbing out a t-shirt, gym shorts and an old pair of sneakers.

“Oh, we’re past that point,” Dean says as he tugs his clothes on and shoves his feet into his shoes. “This is war, Charlie. This. Is. War.” Charlie gives him a wary look, but doesn’t say anything as she picks up two of the bags and throws them across her back. Dean shoulders the rest of the bags, walking with purpose back up the stairs.

Michael is going to pay for this one.

 

 

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for taking forever on this update. I made the mistake of signing up for 2 bangs and stretched myself too thin. On the bright side, I know what is going to happen in the rest of this and I promise it will end at chapt. 7 (forgive me for the lateness? Still friends? Cool.)

Dean angrily shoves his shirts and underwear into his drawer when a soft knock rattles the cabin’s screen door.

“Dean?” Cas calls out. Dean looks up, dropping a shirt onto his bed. With everything that had happened, he’d forgotten about meeting Cas.

“Shit,” Dean mutters, moving toward the door. “Hey, Cas. Uh… Sorry I wasn’t at breakfast, I, uh-”

“Mr. Devereaux said you didn’t show up this morning.” Cas says, his brow pinched together. “I was concerned.”

“Yeah, I kind of got sidetracked,” Dean admits, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “I woke up in a lake.”

Castiel’s brow furrows deeper. “I’m sorry?”

“I woke up floating in the middle of the damn lake thanks to Michael, Harris and Roman.” Dean explains. “Then they sent me on a wild goose chase all around camp to get my clothes. I had to fish them out of the water.” Dean gestures to the pile of black trash bags sitting in a puddle next to his bed.

Castiel takes a step forward and peaks into one the bags. “I suppose this was in retaliation for the ants?” Dean nods.

“Yup.” Castiel purses his lips and looks up at him.

“So what would you like to do now?” he asks, looking at Dean expectantly..

“I want to get those mother fuckers,” Dean replies. A slow smile spreads across Castiel’s face.

“I think that can be accomplished,” he says.

  


Patience is not Dean’s strong suit, but unfortunately, that is what he needs right now.

“Wait? You want to _wait_?” Dean gasps in disbelief. “For how long?”

“Three weeks,” Castiel replies. “We need to lure them into a false sense of security and make them think that you’ve all but forgotten about their little stunt.” Dean’s frowns; he doesn’t want to wait. Three weeks would mean he’s out of the kitchen and back to his regular duties with Michael hovering over him once more.

“I’ll never be able to sneak around with Michael watching me,” he says.

“You won’t have to,” Castiel replies. “I will.” Dean’s eyes go wide.

“Cas, he’s already got it out for you,” Dean points out.

“Are you sure?” Castiel counters, giving Dean a curious look. “Because he didn’t throw me into a lake.”

“Maybe he’s waiting?” Dean shrugs. Castiel hums and shakes his head.

“I doubt it,” he says. “Michael is neither that smart nor that patient, judging by how quickly he acted against you following the ant infestation. I could guarantee, though, that he is on edge now, waiting for you to do or say something.”

“So… we just do nothing then?” Dean flops down on his bed. Castiel takes a set beside him.

“For the time being, yes,” he leans over and kisses Dean lightly. “I’ll think of something suitably awful.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Dean chuckles, giving Castiel’s hand a squeeze. Another knock at the door startles both of them to attention.

“Hey Dean!” Jo pushes through the door without further warning. “Have you seen- Oh, there he is. Hey Cas, Meg wants to know if you were still planning on leading the hike this morning.” Castiel nods and rises from the bed.

“I suppose I should go,” he says, turning to Dean. “Would you like me to speak to Mr. Devereaux?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, I should probably head over there in a few minutes.” Jo glances around the cabin, grimacing at the puddles and trash bags on the floor.

“What happened here?” she asks.

“Long story,” Dean replies, “Cas can tell you.” Jo shrugs and pushes out the door with Castiel following behind. Dean stands from the bed and continues to put his things away. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Castiel has a point, and if he says wait, Dean can wait.

  


Dean’s not sure what is worse- being stuck in The hot kitchen all day or being back on counselor duty and under Michael’s scrutiny. At least in the kitchen, he'd been able to see Castiel occasionally throughout the day. Now, while not harassing Dean outright, Michael seems intent on occupying Dean with the most meaningless tasks, just to keep him from seeing his boyfriend. Michael doesn't even hide his motives, instead goading and encouraging Bartholomew and Dick in their harassment.

The one thing that keeps Dean going is _The Plan_ , in spite of the fact that he doesn’t know what _The Plan_ is. Castiel has remained characteristically tight-lipped on the matter and, whenever Dean asked for details, he would just give coy shrug and say something about _The Plan_ “coming to fruition.”

Dean trusts Castiel, but that doesn’t mean that waiting doesn’t make him ansty.

All of it changes one early morning, though, when he spots Jo lurking a few yards outside their cabin.

“Jo?” Dean asks, approaching her.

“Here are your clean sheets,” Jo says stiffly, thrusting a plastic wrapped bundle into Dean’s arms. “Dad told me to bring them to you guys.”

“Jo we can grab our own sheets…” He trails off, noticing the deliberate look that Jo gives him.

“I was told to give you _your_ _sheets_ ,” Jo repeats, annunciating every word, “as well as other necessities.” Her eyes flick down to the bundle.

“I don't…”

“Just look in the damn sheets,” she hisses. “And don't be obvious about it.” Dean slyly lifts up one of the sheets, noticing a key and a slip of paper with his name across it tucked inside.

“Ah,” Dean says as realization dawns on him. “Got it.” He glances up at Jo and gives her a warm smile. “Thanks for helping us.”

“Whatever,” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “I've told Castiel this isn't going to become a regular thing.” Her hands twitch as she scratches at a cuticle.

“Nice nails,” Dean comments, eyes flicking down at the glossy lighting bolts decorating Jo’s fingernails. She mumbles a thank you, trying to look apathetic about the compliment, but her embarrassed smile gives her away.

“Oh yeah, one more thing,” Jo says, “I’m supposed to tell you to go take a shower or something.”

“Huh?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know, man, he’s your cryptic boyfriend.” Jo sighs as she turns and retreats back to her cabin. Dean quickly pockets the key and the note before heading back inside with the sheets tucked under his arm.

“What were you doing outside, Dean?” Michael’s accusing tone is the first thing to greet him as he steps inside the cabin.

“Singer sent Jo with some sheets,” he says, holding up the bundle. Michael looks doubtful for a second but he nods. Dean sets the bundle down on one of the bunks as he moves to his dresser to gather his toiletries and clothes for the day.

“All right, listen up guys!” Michael announces, causing every head to turn in his direction. “We almost halfway through camp, that only gives us five weeks or less to really start preparing for the capture the flag tournament.”

“Preparing?” Dean asks. No one prepares for Capture the Flag. There's not a lot to protecting a team flag and throwing water balloons full of paint at each other.

“Yes, preparing,” Michale repeats. “This cabin won last year. If we plan on continuing the streak, we need to discuss strategy.”

“Aerial attack!” Bartholomew pipes up. “Come at them from above.”

“How are we supposed to get in the trees, numb nuts?” Dick asks.

“We climb them. Duh.” Bartholomew gives an obvious shrug. Dick shakes his head with a sneer.

“We're just going to start brainstorming for now. Just keep it in mind, ok?” Michael says. He turns his attention to Dean. “I expect you to have a few ideas, considering you were one of the winners last year.” Dean opens his mouth to answer, wondering how he should explain he wasn't _actually_ going to be on their team. On top of that, the last thing he wants is to disrupt the status quo before setting the prank in motion. Something tells Dean that arousing any sort of mistrust at the moment would qualify as a bad idea.

“I'll, uh, think it over,” Dean mumbles, hoping the answer satisfies Michael.

A wide grin spreads across his face. “Good to hear that, Dean,” he says. “You're our secret weapon.” Dean gives a wan smile as he tugs on his polo shirt. He gathers his shower items and calls back that he's going to get cleaned up.

He waits until he’s halfway to the communal showers before taking out the note and reading it. He smiles at Castiel’s impossibly neat handwriting.

_Dean-_

_If Jo has followed my instructions, you should now be in possession of a key in addition to this note and have arrived at the showers. It is my recommendation that you re-read this note twice and then ingest it to prevent future incrimination._

“Sure, Cas,” Dean snorts.

_When you reach the showers, proceed to the locker room and locker 918. The key will unlock it. Please do not dispose of the key or the lock when you are finished as it is an antique and was part of the set to my Grandmama Rowena’s Chastity Belt._

“Ew!” Dean flinches and drops the key in the dirt. He reaches down, gingerly picking it up, and grimacing at the object before turning his attention back to the letter.

_Within the locker is a sealed package addressed to you. DO NOT open it until you return to your cabin. I cannot stress enough that you must not partake in the contents of the package._

“What?” Dean says to himself. He loves Castiel, but sometimes the guy confuses the Hell out of him. Dean continues to read, tucking his bag under his arm as he pulls open to door to the showers.

_After you have opened the package, it is very important that you leave the contents in your dresser unattended. I feel very sure the plan should handle itself from that point._

_Buona fortuna, amor mio,_

_C_

Dean squints at the letter, rereading it as instructed. Despite Castiel’s encouragement to eat the note, Dean walks toward the stalls, tearing the note into pieces, dropping them into the toilet bowl, and flushing them away.

It takes a minute to find locker 918, nestled into a far corner of the locker room. Dean pulls the key from his pocket with two fingers and carefully inserts it into the ancient lock, popping it open with a soft click.

He pulls the locker open to see a plain cardboard box sitting inside, just as Castiel promised. Dean picks it up, looking it over. It’s doesn’t look in anyway out of the ordinary. The postmark reads “Lawrence, KS” and the return address is his own, but the handwriting is unfamiliar; definitely not his mother or father’s. Dean sniffs at the box experimentally, but picks up nothing. Dean grimaces, confused as to why Castiel felt the need to not tell Dean what the box contains.

He shrugs and places the package back in the locker before stripping off his clothes and preparing for his shower. He supposes he just needs to trust Castiel on this one.

  


“Whatcha got there, Winchester,” Bartholomew asks as Dean returns to the cabin. The campers are crowded around Michael out front as he teaches them the proper way to pack a bedroll. Michael lifts his head when he hears Dean’s voice and meets his gaze.

“Care package,” Dean says, nodding down at the box.

“Aww, your Mommy sent you a package.” Dick pouts out his lip sarcastically as he hauls a large cooler out the front. “Guess she _wuvs_ you so much.”

“Sure does,” Dean comes back at him with a solid grin. “Almost as much as your mom.” The bitter smile drops from Dick’s face as Dean moves past him.

“Watch yourself, asshole,” Dick mutters under his breath. Dean slips inside the empty cabin and sits down on his bed, dropping the package to the ground between his legs. He tears the perforated closure and opens the flap, peaking inside. A letter sits at the top of the box. Dean pulls it out and opens it up.

 _Eat nothing_ , it reads. _Trust me._

“What?” Dean asks, brow furrowing in confusion

“So?” Dean jumps in surprise to see Michael and Bartholomew in the doorway. “What’s your haul, Winchester?”

“Um, just junk food and new socks,” Dean says, pulling out a pair of socks. He slips the letter into his back pocket and refolds the flaps of the box as he rises from the bed. “Y’know, The normal stuff.”

“You know, usually when someone gets goodies from home,” Bartholomew says, taking a step forward. “They’re encouraged to share with their friends.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call us ‘friends’ exactly,” Dean replies with a tight expression. “You’re welcome to my old socks if you like, but, y’know… hands off the box.” He pulls it out of Bartholomew’s reach but doesn’t see Michael as he slips behind him and grabs it from his hands.

“Hey!” Dean shouts, turning to grab the box back. Bartholomew spins around and grabs him by the elbows, locking him in a hold.

“Give it back!” Dean yells. Michael smirks as he tips open a flap with two fingers.

“What do we have here,” He tosses the socks across the room. “Jerky, nice. Sunscreen… whatever. Mints… Ooh, homemade cookies.” Michael examines the container. “What are these? Chocolate chip? Yeah, these look good. Oh-ho! The motherload!” Michael pulls a giant bag of gummy bears from the box.

“Gummy bears! Score!” Bartholomew shouts, jerking Dean’s arms back harder.

“Oh yes, these will do,” Michael says, tossing the bag in the air with one hand. “Tell your mom thanks, Winchester.”

“Give it back,” Dean warns dangerously.

“Consider it payment for the ants,” Michael says, lurking down and getting eye to eye with Dean. “For now, though, we’ve got work to do.” He tips his head toward Bartholomew, who pulls Dean by the arms and pushes him out the cabin door.

“Go grab the route maps from Director Singer’s office,” Michael says. “Then meet us at the chow hall. We’re launching the canoes right after breakfast.” Dean stares at Michael in disgust, rubbing at his elbows.

“Now, Dean.” Michael orders, raising his voice. Dean glares at him for a beat but turns and stomps off toward the lodge. He waits until he’s sure that he’s out of sight of the cabin to pull the letter out, the four words on the page staring back at him.

A sly smile crosses Dean’s face. He doesn’t know what Cas has done, but a warning like this can’t mean anything good.

  


It’s so much worse than Dean could ever have expected.

He charges across the camp, eyes wide and haunted. He needs to find Castiel and talk to him. He spots Jo and a few of the Cabin Ten campers coming in the opposite direction.

“Hey Dean, What’s-”

“Where’s Cas?” Dean asks, cutting her off.

“Uh, he’s with Meg setting up for art,” Jo replies, giving Dean a strange look. “What’s going on? Why do you look so weird?”

“I gotta go,” Dean mutters, taking off toward the Art Barn. Jo calls after him, but he doesn’t look back.

He reaches the Art Barn just as Castiel and Meg are dropping spools of brightly colored plastic cord on the table for boondoggles.

“Cas!” Dean calls out. Castiel’s eyes brighten when he sees Dean, but his face scrunches in confusion.

“Dean,” Castiel says as he sets down a handful of cording. “This is a pleasant surprise. What-”

“Can we talk?” Dean asks, grasping Cas by the arm. He leads him to the side of the building, Castiel’s expression changing from confusion to concern.

“Weren’t you supposed to be on a canoe trip this afternoon?” he asks.

“Yeah, we were, until my lead and fellow counselors got derailed in the bathroom after crapping their pants.” Dean explains, his voice a little panicked. “Cas, what did you put in that box?”

Castiel blinks rapidly. “Nothing,” he answers with a headshake. Dean looks at him in disbelief.

“Michael, Dick and Bartholomew are shitting their lungs out,” He says flatly. Castiel quirks his mouth to the side in annoyance.

“Hmm, well, that was fast,” he mumbles. “I was hoping it would’ve started once you were on the water.” Dean sighs heavily and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Cas, please be straight with me,” Dean pleads. “I’m all for harmless pranks, but if you poisoned those guy, I… This is serious. We’re talking criminal charges! I need to know so we can call poison control.” Castiel raises an eyebrow and snorts a soft laugh.

“Dean, I didn’t do anything to the food, I promise.” He replies. “I told you, I had to leave my poisons and neurotoxins at home.”

“But what about…” Dean waves his hand toward the woods. “I mean, there’s stuff out there you could use, right?” Castiel glances at the forest and shrugs.

“I suppose something toxic could be distilled from the native flora, but that could be inconsistent,” he offers, “even for me. But as I said Dean, I didn’t tamper with the food in the care package. At All.” The corner of Castiel’s mouth curls in a sly smile, and Dean could almost swear he looked triumphant.

“I don’t think I understand,” he says with a headshake.

“Do you know what sorbitol is?” Castiel asks. Dean shakes his head again. “It’s a sugar alcohol. Many food and drug companies often times use it as a sugar substitute, due to it’s natural sweetness and low caloric count. Unfortunately, there are some adverse side effects if one ingests too much, most notable gastrointestinal distress, flatulence and mild to severe diarrhea.” Castiel gives Dean a pointed look and Dean can’t help but burst out laughing.

“You… you gave them sorbitol?”

“In the form of sugar free gummy bears? Yes,” Castiel replies. “I’m guessing Michael and the others must’ve eaten the entire bag for the effect to be that quick. That was not a smart decision on their part.” Dean claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Jesus Christ, Castiel, that is pure evil,” Dean mumbles in awe. Cas looks away shyly, a blush tinting his cheeks at the assessment. “How did you even know-?”

“Gabriel. He ordered a bag on accident a few years ago. It was…” Castiel shakes his head, a haunted, far off look in his eye. “Horrific. We thought for awhile perhaps Gabriel had a demon... and not one of those _fun_ demons either.”

“Good lord.” Dean’s face twists in disgust.

“It took a few days to narrow it down to the gummy bears,” Castiel continues. “Our family now refer to it as the great shitstorm of 2013.” Dean smiles broadly. He takes a step forward, letting his head drop to Castiel’s shoulder, as a relieved laugh bubbles up through him.

“How did you know they would steal the package?” he asks, lifting his head to meet Cas’ eye.

“I would’ve been more surprised if they’d left you alone,” Castiel says. “Especially considering how they’ve treated you as of late. My concern is that they may have shared with the children.” Dean shakes his head dismally.

“No, they like them even less than me,” Dean replies. “What about the other stuff in the box. What was wrong with that?”

“Oh, nothing,” Castiel says. “I just told Megan to pack items one would expect in a care package.”

“What about the warning?” Dean asks. “To not eat any of the stuff?” Castiel blinks a few times in confusion.

“No idea.” Castiel shrugs. “Megan enjoys being cryptic. I prefer not to ask too many questions.” Dean nods.

“Well, thank Megan for her help,” he says, “And your help, too. Seriously, thank you. Those assholes had it coming and that was pretty brilliant.”

“You are welcome, Dean.” Castiel says, taking Dean’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. Dean stares at him for a moment before leaning forward with a sweet, short kiss.

“Hey, Clarence!” Meg pokes her head around the side of the building. “I’m almost finished up in here. Do you think you can head back to the cabin and grab me a water?” Castiel nods and turns to Dean.

“Care to join me?” he asks.

“Of course,” Dean says, walking along with Castiel. “But then I need to get back to the campers. The other guys are laid up, so I have them on movie day. They’re probably starting to get restless.” Castiel hums in acknowledgement and takes Dean’s hand, slotting their fingers together.

 

It takes a few days for Michael, Dick and Bartholomew to fully recover, laying in bed and out of sight of the others. Their absences leave Dean as the only counselor in charge of thirty 11-year-olds. The campers are great kids, but they run Dean ragged in no time. Charlie offers her services, but she can only be so many places at once and has her own cabin to worry about. Dean is at least grateful that, save for a few troublemaking kids, they all seem to respond to him. By the time the other counselors are back on duty, he’s happy to say there were no majors incidents under his watch.

This doesn’t mean Dean is any less of a paranoid wreck around Michael. He doesn’t want to think about what the three of them might’ve come up with while laid up in bed. The ant bites hadn’t slowed them down even a day before Dean found himself in a lake; he can only imagine what kind of torture they could think up with three days to stew on it.

“Dean, can I talk to you for a moment?” Michael pulls Dean aside one morning as the others lead the kids across camp for field hockey. He swallows hard; In the week since their return, Dean has been a jumpy mess, flinching at every sudden movement like he’s about to be attacked.

“Uh, yeah, what’s up?” he asks. Michael looks at him thoughtfully, drawing out the silence between them.

“Are you ok?” he asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem… anxious.” Michael says. “Is something going on? Are you in trouble o-”

“I’m great actually,” Dean flashes a forced smile and gives a thumbs up. “Super.” Michael stares at him for another moment, a doubtful look on his face.

“It was the gummy bears, right?” he asks. He wags a finger as Dean. “That… That was a stroke of genius.” A feeling of dread settles over Dean.

“What?” he mumbles.

“I would’ve never thought of the sugar-free gummy bears,” Michael chuckles. “Not in a million years.” Dean stares at him, wide-eyed in fear.

“What… What are you going to do to me?” He stammers. Michael looks up at him in confusion.

“Um...nothing?” he says.

“Bullshit.”

“No, I’m serious, man,” Michael holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Truce.” Dean takes a step back, ready to bolt like a scared animal.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he mutters.

“Nothing. Relax, Dean. Jesus,” Michael moves to sit down on the porch steps, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting up. “Look, let’s just put an end to this, ok? The diarrhea gummy bears were pretty much the pinnacle of pranks. I don’t think any of us will be able to top that without risking a limb or poisoning one another.” Dean watches him, not moving a step closer.

“So that’s it?” he says. “Prank war done?”

“One of us has to the the bigger man. Might as well be me?” Michael says, taking a long drag off the cigarette. Dean’s shoulders sink in relief, but he is still dubious of Michael.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because prank wars are immature and dumb,” Michael grouses.

“So are you,” Dean replies flatly, causing Michael to stiffen in response. “What’s the real reason? You’re not doing this out of the kindness of your heart or because it’s beneath you.” Michael purses his lips and nods.

“Ok, ok, yeah, there is something else.” He takes a puff. “The tournament.”

“Tournament?” Dean asks, confused.

“Capture the Flag tournament. We need you, Dean.” Dean opens his mouth to speak, but Michael cuts him off. “I’m guessing you’re already working to be on your boy’s team, but… Look, we need you. You were on last year’s winning team, you know what to expect, hell, you've got more experience with this than the rest of us combined. You would give us a leg up.” Dean knows he’s not lying; after four years as a camper and two as a counselor, he’s got his Capture the Flag strategy almost down to an art by this point.

“And that’s worth canning this prank war to you?”

“More than worth it,” Michael answers sincerely, blowing out a steady stream of smoke. “I’ll be honest, I want to win and you’re the key to doing that. Just stay on our team and everything will go back to normal.”

“Better than normal,” Dean states firmly. “You don’t stop me from seeing Cas.”

“Done,” Michael says.

“And you leave both of us alone,” he continues. “That means Dick and Bartholomew too. I’m sick of their bullshit attitudes.” Michael smirks but crosses himself with a finger.

“I swear no one will lay a hand on either of your heads.”

“Or any of his stuff,” Dean emphasizes, remembering the umbrella. Michael’s eyes meet his in a hard stare.

“Of course,” he says as he stubs out the butt and sweeps it beneath the deck with his foot. “We have a deal, then? Stay on the team?” Michael extends his hand out and Dean takes it in a firm handshake.

“Sure,” he answers.

“Glad we could work this out, Dean,” Michael says with a diplomatic smile. “Let’s go and meet the others.” He turns and heads in the direction of the rest of the cabin. The smiles drops off Dean’s face as he follows behind. He feels like he just made a deal with the devil, but if it means Cas will no longer be mistreated, it will be worth it.

Dean frowns; now, he just has to figure out how to break it to him.

  


Castiel takes it better than he expected. Not that Dean thought Cas would rant and rave or throw a fit, but he did assume there would be more of a reaction than he got.

“I see,” Cas says calmly after Dean breaks the news. They sit on the dock by the lake, their toes dipping in the water as the setting sun casts long shadows across it. Dean watches him, awaiting something more, but Castiel appears to be finished talking.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” he says, fiddling with a loose thread on his shorts. “I had it all worked out with Meg and everything. I was really looking forward to being on your team.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Are you mad?” Castiel shakes his as he pushes up his dark glasses and rests them on the top of his head. He turns to Dean.

“I’m not mad.” he says honestly. “Though I feel I must stress that I can fight my own battles, Dean.”

“I know, I know,” Dean replies. “This isn’t about protecting you or anything. I know you can handle yourself. Believe me, _I know_.” That earns a soft snort from Castiel. “But you’ve done a lot for me, what with the pranks and all… I felt I owed it to you. You know if the roles were reversed, you’d do this for me.”

Castiel gives an emphatic nod. “Yes. I would,” he says. “I do have concerns though. Are you sure you can trust Michael?” Dean exhales heavily through his nose at the thought. It’s a question he’s been replaying for the last day.

“I think so, at least with this,” he answers. “He seemed really adamant about wanting to win. I think he’d do anything for it.”

“Including lie,” Castiel points out. Dean nods slowly.

“Yeah, well, that’s a chance we have to take,” he says. “At least we’ll have some semblance of peace, and now I can some free time with you.” He leans forward and presses a tender, slow kiss to Castiel’s lips, drawing it out as long as he can before coming up for air.

“I suppose there are perks,” Castiel mumbles against Dean’s mouth.

“Are you calling me a perk?” Dean asks laughs. Castiel hums in the affirmative and draws back from the kiss.

“Don’t presume I’ll go easy on you just because I find you attractive,” he warns “I will be nothing less than ruthless. You might regret losing me as an ally, Dean.” Dean chuckles and pecks him lightly on the lips.

“I would expect nothing less,” he says. “If you get the drop on me, you’re welcome to take me down. Remember though, you’re talking to the reigning champ. It won’t be as easy as you think.”

“Adorable,” Castiel replies with a deadpan expression. “I promise to make your defeat quick and noble.”

“Not Painless?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask for miracles, Dean,” Castiel says after a beat. Dean shakes his head and takes Castiel’s hand in his.

“What’s that thing they say about pride, Cas?”

“I could say the same thing, Winchester,” he replies, leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I haven't given up on this story. I am so sorry for the delay. I ended up scrapping the first draft of this chapter, crying, and then starting from scratch. 
> 
> But, hey, 2 chapters in one day! Yay! And now the story is complete! Double yay! Thanks for sticking with me through this effort.

Castiel walks out of his cabin, instantly assaulted by the muggy heat and blinding sunlight.

“This is unbearable,” he mutters as he pushes open his charcoal gray umbrella. It's not as obstructing as his previous one, but it does the job he supposes. “Now I know what being burned alive feels like, and it’s far less pleasant than I imagined.” 

“I feel ya, Clarence,” Meg offers, stepping to his side as she slips on a pair of aviators. “I'm thinking board games today… or maybe a movie. I don't care, anything as long as there is air conditioning.”

“Why did either of you take this job if you hate the outdoors?” Jo gripes as she corrals a line of campers.

“Honestly, I was hoping to find a hot counselor, but the only ones here are either taken,” Meg elbows Castiel playfully. “Or giant douchebags, like Michael.” Jo rolls her eyes and leads the campers down the path.

“I'm guessing that you'd like to say hi to the boyfriend?” Meg asks. Castiel gives a small nod and heads in the opposite direction toward the sports field. 

In the weeks since Michael call a truce, the camp atmosphere has improved for the most part. In spite of Castiel’s initial doubts to his sincerity, Michael has kept his word and curtailed his antagonizing of Castiel. Even his minions, Roman and Harris, seemed to have lost interest in tormenting him. 

Still, at times Castiel feels Dean made a deal with the devil, giving in to Michael’s terms so quickly. The offer felt too good to be true; simply stay on their capture the flag team and he’d backs off. Castiel knows better than to think there wasn’t some fine print to that agreement; his Uncle Crowley taught him that.

The walk to the field isn’t far, but by the time he arrives, a thin line of sweat runs down his back, drenching the dark fabric of his shirt. He feels a strange sort of sympathy for the campers huffing and jogging down the field, chasing after the flags hooked to their hips. Michael stands at the end of the field, pacing like a caged lion and making marks on a clipboard. The sight of him makes Castiel scowl, but it fades away when he catches sight of Dean, shirtless and dripping with sweat as he runs along the field, calling out instructions to the kids.

Castiel’s mouth goes dry, eyes drawn to the firm plains of Dean’s chest, the ways the muscles of his legs flex as he runs, even the soft belly that pouches out over the top of his gym shorts. Even if Castiel felt absolutely nothing for Dean sexually, His aesthetic beauty is undeniable. 

Dean’s face lights up as soon as he sees Castiel. He runs across the field towards Michael, leaning in to say something. Michael lifts his head and glances in Castiel’s direction, his mouth twisted down into a frown. He gives Dean a nod before blowing the whistle, causing every player to stop in the tracks. Dean hurries in Castiel’s direction as the campers trudge toward a nearby water jug.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, slightly breathless and wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. His face is flushed from the heat, making his smile seem even brighter than usual. “What’s up?”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, eyes drifting against his will down Dean’s torso; he really is quite attractive, isn’t he? “You said I should stop by, so I’m doing as you asked.” Dean chuckles and reaches out, lightly brushing his fingers against Castiel’s. 

“Well, I feel honored,” Dean says. “What’s your cabin up to today?” 

“Today was Meg’s choice. She wanted something with air conditioning,” Castiel looks up to the cloudless sky. “I can’t say I disagree with her decision.”

“Wish Michael felt that way,” Dean mutters, casting a scornful look back at him. “We’ve been out here all morning, sweating our asses off.” Castiel glances again to the field where the campers chug paper cups of water before hobbling back onto the field.

“Does Michael realize that he’s risking the children’s health and safety?” Castiel asks. 

“Right now, I don’t think he cares about anything that doesn’t involve training for the tournament,” Dean snorts derisively. Castiel frowns; he doesn’t understand the competitive drive over this trifling little game they intend on playing this weekend. The object is laughably simplistic and requires little to no strategy or insight; “capture the flag,” it’s right there in the name. It’s not as if they are using actual ammunition or weapons. There’s no sense of danger or the adrenaline rush of the hunt. Honestly, for Castiel, this so called tournament is more of a lark than anything else. 

For Michael, it’s serious business, with him running his campers and, by extension, Dean through near-constant training drills. 

Castiel hums in thought. “I might be able to distill a toxin out of some of the native plants,” Castiel offers. “It wouldn't really injure him. He might experience some mild hallucinations, maybe night sweats.” He gives a small shrug. “It could at least offer you a respite.” Dean smiles at Castiel and reaches out for his hand.

“Aw, thanks Cas, but we’re at a truce, remember?” he says. “We all need to play nice. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. Maybe if I say I have some ‘training video’, we can kill a couple hours watching ‘Stripes’ or ‘Down Pericope’” Castiel sighs and gives a relenting nod. He knows he needs to trust Dean, even if he doesn’t trust Michael.

Dean’s hand comes up, lightly touching the tassels that edge Castiel’s umbrella. “You got a new one?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm.” Castiel nods. “After I relayed to Megan what happened to my previous umbrella, She and Virgil went searching through our cellar. Apparently, they found this amongst Great Uncle Knick-Knack’s belongings... in addition to Great Uncle Knick-Knack.”

“Your uncle was living in the basement?” Dean asks. Castiel gives him a deadpan stare. 

“No,” he replies solemnly, leaving Dean blinking in confusion. The abrupt screech of a whistle cuts through air. Cas and Dean both turn to see Michael gesturing wildly as Harris and Roman. 

“I better get back,” Dean mumbles. “Dick and Bartholomew don’t really  _ get _ flag football.” He carefully pulls Castiel’s umbrella down to hide their faces, stealing a hurried kiss from Castiel. 

“I missed that,” Dean whispered, grinning against his lips. Castiel hums and kisses Dean again. “Think Meg would let you have tonight off? We can go down by the lake, maybe do a little skinny dipping?” Castiel raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you sure the Generalissimo over there will release you?” he asks. Dean grins, resting a hand on Cas’ hip and pulling him closer 

“Can't hurt to ask,” Dean says. He leans in for another kiss but another sharp whistle cuts him off.

“Dean!” Michael calls out over the field. 

“I got to go,” Dean says glumly, pulling back and jogging back across the field. Castiel watches him for a minute, admiring the tanned, freckled expanse of Dean’s back, before retreating toward the main hall.

 

* * *

 

Castiel can't help the sigh of relief as he steps into the air conditioned building. A few other cabins have also opted for a day indoors and campers are scattered all across the room, entertaining themselves. 

“How's Dean?” Jo asks as she comes up from behind, sidling up next to Castiel.

“At the mercy of a dictator,” Castiel sighs as he secures his umbrella and loops the strap over his wrist. “Michael’s obsession with Capture the Flag is bordering on sociopathic.” Jo snorts behind her hand and nods.

“Yeah, apparently it’s not a new thing,” she says. “Meg and him were both campers here around the same time few years back and she said he was  _ way _ worse as a kid.” Castiel raises a surprised eyebrow at that. 

“That’s difficult to imagine,” he mutters.

“I guess he was pissed that his team came in like third place,” Jo continues. “He called his muckety-muck lawyer stepdad and threatened to sue all the other teams. So yeah, Michael’s off the deep end on this whole tournament thing. I say if he wants to win, let him. Let the baby have his bottle.” Castiel nods in agreement. Jo’s reasoning has some merit. 

Across the room, Meg throws down a hand of cards with a groan as she rises from a table made up of their campers. 

“I swear those kids are card sharks,” she says, “15 minutes of learning Hold'em and they clean me out in 4 hands. That’s gotta be some kind of prodigy shit to get that good, that fast.” 

“Uh… Not exactly,” Jo’s says with a sheepish grin. “I taught everyone poker, like, two weeks ago.” Meg blinks in surprise, glancing from Jo to the far table of kids and back.

“Awww, Those little bastards hustled me.” she says with a grin, placing a hand over her chest. “Almost brings some life to my cold, little, black heart.” 

“I guess that means one of you two will need you to win everything back for me,” she says, turning back to them and grabbing Jo by the wrist. “C’mon, blondie. Castiel, can you check on everyone else.” He nods as Meg drags a protesting Jo back toward the card table.

 

* * *

 

Michael and Dean walk side by side as they lead their campers toward the dining hall for supper. The setting sun has finally dipped below the treeline, bathing the entire camp in the muggy shadows of the twilight.

“All I'm saying is I don't think we can call Stripes a training film,” Michael grouses. Dean shrugs with mock ignorance.

“Hey, I tried searching for Patton or Platoon or something like that, but Bobby’s VHS collection is really slim.” It was a lie, of course. Dean had completely ignored the dusty VCR attached to the ancient TV they'd borrow from Bobby’s office. He’d had managed to find a couple AV cables and jury rig his phone to play through the set. The TV’s screen flipped incessantly and sound only played out of half the speakers, but the kids didn’t seem to mind, cracking up throughout the entire movie. Dean could’ve probably shown them his Dad’s five-part Civil War documentary, and they would've been happy. Anything would’ve been better than spending another afternoon out of the sweltering heat.

“I thought the film was educational,” Dean pipes up. “They're playing war games. We're _kind of_ playing war games. And, C’mon, It's hot as hell outside. Did you really want someone passing out?.” Michael makes a low grumble in his throat. 

“No,” He says reluctantly. “Look, it was a nice break, but we lost some valuable planning time.” Dean controls the urge to roll his eyes. Does this guy ever shut off? He glances back at the kids, all looking worn down and haggard, like Michael has sucked all the fun out of sleepaway camp. In Dean’s opinion, he definitely has. 

“We're going to have to keep going with them tonight after dinner,” Michael continues. “Start designating roles for the tournament, going over strategy.” Dean falters in his step, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to spend the evening with Cas.

“Uh... I actually kind of had plans,” Dean admits. Michael slows his pace, the rest of the group cutting around them to keep moving. He raises a skeptical eyebrow at Dean.

“Plans?”

“I’m meeting up with Castiel tonight,” Dean says. Michael gives a couple slow blinks before letting his head fall back.

“Dean, really?” he groans.

“We have a deal,” Dean reminds him.

“These last few days are vital,” Michael says earnestly. 

“And we’ve been working our asses off,” Dean throws a thumb in the direction of the campers trudging away from them. “Look, I’m not asking for days off, just a couple hours to see my boyfriend.” Michael’s jaw tightens and flexes in response and after a moment he throws his hands up.

“Fine, fine,” he says too quickly. “Whatever, just… fine. We’ll just… work through dinner instead.” Dean gives a furtive eye roll. 

“Sure,” he says, not bothering to hide the thinly-veiled irritation in his voice. 

“We’re going to need my binder, then,” Michael adds. “Can you run and grab it? It should be on top of my dresser. You know what it looks like.” He claps Dean on the shoulder and moves past him before Dean has a chance to respond.

“Yes, sir,” he mutters, turning back in the opposite direction.

 

* * *

 

Dean flicks on the cabin lights once he steps inside, his eyes falling on Michael’s dresser and the thick, blue binder sitting on top of it. He grabs the binder, surprised by the density of it, and tucks it under his arm. 

“Christ this is heavy,” he mutters. “What the hell is even in this thing?” Out of curiosity, Dean flips through the pages and pages of handwritten notes, a loose page slipping out and falling to the floor as he does.

Dean grumbles and kneels down to pick up the sheet, but stops when he notices what it is: a camp map marked in red ink and what Dean easily recognizes as Bobby’s shaky scrawl.

Dean sets the binder aside and picks up the map. The words “Red”, “Green”, and “Blue” jump out at him, what Dean recognizes as team names, each next to an X circled in red with lines drawn back to… Cabin Three?

Why is everything drawn back to their cabin?

Dean’s stomach sinks as realization sets in: It’s a copy of the tournament key, one Bobby’s makes up detailing the placement of all the team flags. Having access to it, means knowing exactly where to look to overtake the other teams and earn the maximum amount of points. The fact that Michael has it means only one thing: he’s cheating. Dean scowls as he picks up the binder and tosses it onto Michael’s bed. He folds the map and places it in one of his cargo pockets before throwing open the cabin door and marching toward the dining hall.

By the time he stalks through the doors, everyone has already settled into their meals. 

“Took you long enough,” Michael says as Dean approaches the table, taking a bite out of a dinner roll. “C’mon, sit down. We have a lot to catch up on… Where’s the binder?” he looks up expectantly. 

“Can I talk to you?” Dean says coolly. “Alone.” As much as he’d love to call Michael out in front of the whole camp, part of him still wants to give this guy a chance to come clean without a lot of commotion. Michael chews for a moment, watching Dean, before nodding and rising from the bench.

“Sure,” he says. He follows Dean out of the Dining hall and around the building, out of earshot of anyone who may be nearby.

“What’s up?” Michael asks, folding his arms across his body and leaning against the side of building.

“What’s this?” Dean snaps, pulling the map out of his pocket and holding it in front of Michael’s face. Michael’s expression doesn’t change but Dean catches the way his nostrils flare and he glances between him and the map. 

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he says dismissively. “Let’s go back inside.” He pushes off the building but Dean takes a step in front of him. 

“This is Bobby’s. Why do you have this?” Dean says. “Where did you get it?” Michael gives an amused snort and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Dean, you’re blowing this out of proportion.” 

“You’re cheating!” Dean hisses. “You have the location of every team master flag laid out for you. Are you kidding me?” Michael sighs and gives Dean a tired, long-suffering look.

“Dean, it’s not what it looks like,” he says, “We’re just... leveling the playing field, ok? We’re not going to grab everyone’s flags all at once, just give the kids a chance and if they need a leg up-”. 

“You’ll tell them cheating is ok?” Dean supplies sarcastically. 

“Oh my God, don’t act like this doesn’t happen every year.” Michael gives a caustic laugh. “You think we’re the first cabin to get a hold of the map? God, it’s not like Singer keeps it locked up or anything.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he locks his office,” Dean squawks. MIchael shuts his eyes and squeezes his fists in silent frustration. 

“Dean, you’re not getting it, alright,” he says. “This is just part of the game, like the training and-”

“Training, sure… But this isn’t right or fair to any of the other kids,” Dean snaps. 

“So maybe their lead counselors should’ve tried harder,” Michael argues. He takes a step forward, lowering his voice. “I promised these kids and myself that we would win this year... and that is not changing.” Dean blinks in disbelief.

“And this is how you want to do it?” 

“I want to win.” Michael stands up straight, squaring back his shoulders, “and so do they. And I’ll do what I need to to get there.” There is a long beat of silence between them as Michael tries to stare Dean down. Had it been the beginning of the summer or even a few weeks ago, Dean might’ve cowed to his tactics, but after all the bullshit he’s put up with, he’s reached his limit.. 

“I’m out,” Dean mumbles. Turning to walk back the way he came.

“What do you mean you’re out?” Michael calls out, his voice rising in surprise.

“I mean I quit,” Dean says turning around. He holds up the map once more. “And I’m taking this to Bobby and letting him know what’s going on.” Michael’s eyes widen and he takes a step toward Dean.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, you’re not doing that.”

“Yeah, I am,” Dean states. He turns again, but Michael grabs him by the arm and whips him around, his expression growing grave.

“We had a deal,” Michael says, as he takes another step closer Dean, their bodies only inches apart. 

“Deal’s off.” Dean matches Michael’s glare as he tries to pull his arms out of Michael’s grip

“What about your boyfriend?” Dean goes still. “You quit and I’m not keeping up my end of the deal either. That little faggot-”

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Dean snarls.

“... He’ll never see me coming,” Michael chuckles bitterly. “He’ll be lucky if I don’t put him in the hospital.” A sharp stab of fear twinges in Dean’s gut at the thought of Castiel getting hurt, but it is overtaken by something he knows to be absolutely true.

“You know what, Mike?” Dean finally jerks his arm away. “It doesn't even matter, because your ass will be fired either way. You think because you’re bigger than someone or have more authority, that automatically means something. It doesn’t. You’re a fucking camp counselor, you jackass. Get the fuck over yourself. I’m done buying into all of this bullshit.” MIchael grits his teeth and Dean can practically see the gears spinning in his head as he tries to formulate a response.

“I’ll tell Singer it was your idea,” He blurts out, loud enough to grab the attention of the few stragglers to dinner. “You took the map and now you’re trying to pin it on me.” Dean snorts derisively.

“Go ahead,” Dean challenges. “And when I talk to Bobby, I’ll explain all the ways you have been working your campers to the bone over this obsession you have with a stupid, little game!” Dean turns to leave, but stops when something occurs to him. 

“Also, the only reason I try to stand up for my boyfriend is because he lets me.” he says. “You want to start something with Castiel, you want to try to get the jump on him, be my guest, because it would be hilarious to watch him kick-” Dean only sees a flash of movement before his back hits the ground with a thud. Michael’s weight is suddenly on top of him, his fists slamming into Dean’s face. Dean tries to cover himself from the blows with one arm while trying to get a hit back with the other. Michael lands a punch against the side of Dean’s head, causing his ears to ring and his vision to blur a little. He hears muffled shouts around him and he can’t tell if it’s coming from Michael or somewhere else. There is another flurry of movement followed by the the weight lifting off of him and another set of hands on his shoulders.

“Dean! Dean! Are you ok?” It’s Sam. Dean squints up to see his brother hovering over him. He grunts as he pushes himself up, ignoring the lingering pain in his face and head. Sam loops a hand under his arm to help him up, but Dean brushes him off. A crowd has gathered around and Dean notices Bobby in Michael’s face, cursing up a blue streak. Dean jumps when the older man abruptly turns toward him.

“Inside. Now.” he snaps. “Both of you."

 

* * *

  
  


Castiel sorts through his open steamer trunk, scrutinizing his clothing choices. He holds up a slouchy purple crop top, wondering if Dean might find it too revealing. 

“Go for it, Clarence.” Castiel turns his head to see Meg standing in the doorway. “You want to wear that for Dean, right? I say do it. You’ll look hot.” 

“Thank you, Meg.” A brief smirk crosses his face as he folds the top and drops it onto his bed. “Any other input?” Meg steps into the room, leaning over Castiel to look inside the trunk. 

“The dark gray shorts.” she says. “And this.” She offers up two fingers, a foil packet held in between them. Castiel stares at it for a moment, blinking slowly.

“I don’t believe-” he begins, but Meg cuts him off with a shake of her head, kneeling down next to him.

“Look, I don’t know what you two have planned for the night, but if you’re going to do what I  _ think _ you’re going to do, be smart about it, ‘k?.” she tosses the condom on top of the steamer trunk’s contents. “Dean seems like an alright guy, but I doubt he brought protection with him.” Castiel gives her a side-eye look, raising an eyebrow. 

“You think that will be necessary?” 

Meg shrugs. “Better safe than sorry, Cas. Also, you’ll want this.” She reaches into the back pocket of her shorts and drops a small plastic bottle next to the condom, “Trust me, it’ll make everything better.” 

“Are you always this prepared for anal sex?” he asks unironically. 

“You gotta be prepared for anything in this line of work,” She gives him a pointed look. “12 weeks, dozens of horny teenagers... shit happens.” She gets to her feet and pats him on the shoulder as she walks back out of the room. Castiel quickly gets dressed. He stares at the condom and lube for a moment before gathering them up and slipping them into the pocket of his shorts. 

As he steps out into the common room, there is a heavy knock at the door. He moves to opens it, expecting it to be Dean.

“Hello, Dean- uh...Sam?” Castiel’s brows draw together in confusion. Sam Winchester and Gabriel stand at his doorstep.“What are-”

“Dean’s hurt,” Sam blurts out. 

Castiel’s blood runs cold. “What?” 

“He and Michael got into this huge brawl,” Gabriel pipes up, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. Castiel’s whole body tenses and his fists clench.

“Where is he?” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I updated two chapters in one day, so make sure you've checked out the previous chapter before continuing.
> 
> This is it, the final chapter. Again, thank you everyone for sticking with me through this.

Dean sits in the nurse’s office on a rickety cot watching the ceiling fan spin lazily with his uninjured eye.The fan blades cut through the stagnant air, stirring it around rather than cooling it.

“Birthdate?” the camp nurse asks without looking up from the accident report in front of her.

“January 24,” Dean replies, his busted lips causing his words to come out muffled. He winces as he pulls the ice pack away from the right side of his face. The pain radiates up his jawline and under his eye. He carefully touches the tender, swollen skin, flinching at the pain before returning the ice pack to its spot.

“Any allergies?” she asks, continuing to scribble across the sheet. Dean shakes his head and gives a mumbled no. She slides open a desk drawer and pulls out a penlight and pair of purple disposable gloves from a box.

Snapping the glove over her hand, she twists her rolling chair around to face Dean.

“Let’s get a look at that.” She offers a warm smile and gestures for Dean to scoot closer. Dean sits up and pulls the ice pack away once so she can examine him. She briefly shines the light in each of Dean’s eyes. “Eyes are both dilating, that’s good. How’re you feeling? Any dizziness? Nausea?” Dean shakes his head and she gives a satisfied nod, dropping the penlight back into the drawer.

“Oh yeah… you're going to have a shiner there,” she murmurs as she swipes a thumb lightly below Dean’s eyes. She lifts his chin with her other hand and leans in close to examine his lip.

“How’s your lip feel?” she asks.

“Hurts,” Dean replies. She nods and leans back in the chair, spinning back to her desk to make another note on the form.

There’s a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” she says, still filling in the report. The door opens and Bobby steps inside.

“How’s he doing, Layla?” he asks, glancing at Dean.

“He’ll live,” the nurse replies, glancing back at him with an easy smile. “His head’s fine. It’s mainly bruising, some swelling, a couple cuts. He’s going to have a black eye.” Bobby nods.

“I spoke to Michael,” he says, growing serious and turning toward Dean. “He placed the blame for the map on you. Said you were the one who stole it.” Dean’s eyes widen and he jerks the ice pack down, ready to argue.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he squawks, “The Hell I did! Michael’s a fucking liar! I would never-”

“Calm down, Dean!” Bobby holds up a hand, stopping him mid-rant. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, I know it wasn’t you. Frank saw him sneaking around here a week or so ago. I’ve been keeping an eye out.” Dean relaxes, sinking back down into the cot.

“Between that and your kerfuffle, I think Michael employment here is is done. He’ll be outta here on the next Greyhound,” Bobby continues. “Spoke to Roman and Harris as well. They seemed pretty clueless on the matter, so either they weren’t involved or they’re great actors.” Dean shakes his head. Dick and Bartholomew wouldn’t have been smart enough to keep their mouths shut if Michael told them anything.

“So what happens now?” Dean asks. Looking up at Bobby once more.

“Well, I can call your folks to come and pick you-”

“No,” Dean replies, harsher than he’d intended. “I mean, I’m good to stay.” Bobby looks at him skeptically, opening his mouth to say something more, but the screen door swinging open interrupts him.

“Dean?” Dean looks up to see Cas standing in the doorway, his expression strangely distressed, with Meg following behind him.

“Wow, Winchester,” Meg says, side-stepping past Castiel. “You look like shit.” Dean and Cas shoot her twin glares.

“Thanks, Meg,” Dean mutters sarcastically. Castiel kneeling in front of him, bringing his hands tenderly to Dean’s face. “Oh my God, what did he do to you?”

“Cas, I’m fine,” Dean chuckles, pulling Cas’ hands away from his face. “Really. I’ve had worse during football season.” Castiel stares at Dean with a skeptical expression, clearly not mollified. Dean gives him a half smile and squeezes his hand before looking up at Bobby and the Nurse.

“Can I get out of here now?” he asks. “I just want to get some rest.” Layla rolls her chair back and opens a drawer, reaching in and grabbing out a couple packets of Advil.

“For the pain.” She offers them out to Dean. “And if you start getting dizzy or your head feels any worse, come back here.” Bobby gives Castiel and Dean scrutinizing looks, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, what do you want to do now, Dean?” he asks. Dean stares at him, brows furrowed. Did he miss something?

“I guess I should go back to my cabin,” he says. “The kids are getting ready for lights out and… “ He trails off as he notices the stern look from Castiel and a head shake from Bobby.

“Nope, you’re out of there,” he says. Dean opens his mouth to protest but Bobby cuts him off. “Don’t interrupt me! I’ve had enough drama out of that cabin this summer, especially with the so-called adults.Tim and Doug are going to take over for the remainder of the time. I’m going to sort the rest of y’all somewhere else.” Dean brightens a little at this new information.

“So… where are you planning on putting me then?” he asks hesitantly. Bobby gives an angry sigh, removing his cap and running a hand through his receding hair.

“As much as it pains me to do so, you’re going to be bunking with your boyfriend here for the time being.” It’s clear from the way Cas’ neck snaps in Bobby’s direction that this is news to him as well. “But I swear on my own pickled liver, y’all better be on your best behavior. No hanky-panky, you got it?” Castiel and Dean both give serious nods.

“Yeah, ok,” Dean mumbles, flushing slightly at Bobby having any insight to his lovelife.

“I promise there will be no incongruous behavior,” Castiel states. Meg smirks and tips her head toward the door.

“C’mon you two,” She says. “We need to get back before Jo loses her mind and starts duct taping kids to their bunks.” Bobby’s eyebrows fly to his hairline but Meg just flashes him smile as the three of them exit the nurse’s station.

The walk back to the cabin is quiet, only broken by the click of cicadas and mosquitos buzzing past their ears.

Dean’s whole body aches from Michael’s training and his face throbs from the fight. Cas reaches out and lightly takes his hand, slotting their fingers together and giving Dean a soft squeeze.

Dean smiles at Castiel, but his face drops when he notices Castiel’s brow still pinched together and his jaw set in anger. Castiel always looks vaguely bitter, but there is an anxiousness behind his expression that Dean doesn’t like, especially if he’s the cause.

“It's ok, Cas. I'm ok.” Dean whispers. “Whatever you're thinking about, stop.”

“I don't know what you're referring to,” he says in a half-hearted lie.

“You look like you're plotting revenge,” Dean points out with a smirk..

“Dean, you know I'm always plotting revenge.” Castiel argues. Dean gives a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, but this is less hypothetical than usual,” he replies. Castiel purses his mouth in annoyance but doesn't say anything. “Look, let's forget about Michael, ok? He's out of here. We don't have to put up with his bullshit anymore.” Castiel doesn't look convinced and he grasps onto Dean hand tighter.

“I don't like seeing you hurt,” he admits softly.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean says. “And I feel the same way, but let's not let this douchebag ruin our summer anymore than he already has.” Castiel licks at his lips before nodding agreement.

“Point made,” he says, “but if I ever see that man again I'm separating his limbs from him torso with a spork.” Dean can't help but laugh out loud at the comment and he even catches the brief glimpse of a smile on Cas’ face.

“Hey Winchester, you want to stop by your cabin and grab your things?” Meg calls back over her shoulder. Dean nods and they stop at Cabin Three.

Two counselors Dean doesn't recognize (he assumes they are the “ Tim and Doug” Bobby mentioned) are already inside, unpacking their things. The kids are still at the bonfire and the cabin is oddly quiet without them. Dean nods at both of them as he collects his things, haphazardly throwing them into his duffle. He pulls his sheet off his mattress and rolls his sleeping bag as best he can before stepping back out the door.

Meg flips on the lights as soon as they step inside Cabin Ten. It’s still empty, Jo and the kids probably already on their way back.

“Alright, Winchester, all these places are laid out the same.” Meg says, flipping open a couple doors in demonstration. “I don’t think there’s any need for a grand tour.” Dean mumbles an “ok” as he follows Castiel back toward his bedroom.

“I’ve been on the lower level, but I can switch if you’d prefer it.” Castiel says, standing to the side as Dean awkwardly finagles his way through the door, dropping his things on the floor. He gives Cas a flirtatious smirk.

“Top bunk works for me,” he says, bracketing his arms over Cas and moving in close. Dean’s leans forward, kissing Castiel in spite of the painful protests from his swollen lip. Cas’ mouth moves against him carefully, hyper-aware of Dean’s state, directing his attention to the left side of Dean’s mouth.

“Aww, c’mon, Cas. You’re not going to really kiss me?” Dean pouts out his bottom lip, making himself look even more pathetic than he already does.

“I wouldn’t mind causing you a little bit of pain, Dean,” Cas says, running a hand up the back of Dean’s head and tugging lightly, “but not like this.” His hand slides down Dean’s jaw and his thumb lightly passes over the angry purple bruise beneath Dean’s eyes.

“Hey guys,” Meg calls from the hallway, “I’m going to head back out there and help Jo corral the campers.” She steps into the doorway and rests an elbow against the frame. “I’m assuming you two would like to stay here?” Cas and Dean nod in unison, not even glancing at each other for confirmation.

“Figured.” Meg nods. “Look, while I’m gone, have fun, but clean up after yourselves and no funny business if there are kids in the cabin.” She turns her attention directly to Dean. “I mean it. I don’t want one of these kids’ ‘What I did over summer vacation’ essays to consists of the words ‘sexual awakening.’ I like this job and I plan on keeping it.” She flashes a tight smile and slips down the hallway. As soon as he hears the crash of the screen door, Dean slumps against Castiel.

“Looks like we’re getting our date after all,” he says.

“Abbreviated, but yes.” he tips Dean’s head up and meets his gaze. Dean presses forward again, ignoring his pains and kissing Castiel more enthusiastically. Castiel gives in to Dean’s efforts, relaxing against the wall and as Dean’s tongue breaches his lips.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he breathes.

“Would you stop if said you were?” Dean asks, planting tender kisses down his neck.

“I didn’t say that,” Castiel responds coyly, earning a snort from Dean. His warm fingers fiddle with the edge of Castiel’s crop top, casually brushing the tender skin beneath it.

“You look… really good tonight.” Dean mumbles, He looks up to meet Cas’ gaze, a pink flush filling in his pale cheeks. Castiel licks at his lips, considering something for a moment, before hooking his fingers beneath the hem and pulling his top off in one fluid movement.

The action takes Dean by surprise. He lifts a hand,slowly running it over Cas’ collarbone and down his chest. He’s never seen Cas this exposed before, even when he’s at the lake; touching his soft, bare skin almost feels reverent and overwhelming. Castiel inhales sharply as Dean trails his fingers past his navel, his muscles quivering in response. Dean smiles to himself; he would never have thought Cas to be ticklish.

“Cas,” he breathes out, hesitant hands still exploring his body. Castiel doesn’t reply, only surges forward, pushing Dean back until he runs into the bedframe and topples onto the lower bunk. Dean doesn’t have to be told twice, he hands tightening over Cas’ waist as he rolls them over so that Cas is pinned beneath him.

Long cool fingers slide under Dean’s t-shirt, bunching it up under his arms until Dean gets the hint and shimmies it over his head. He wastes no time pulling him close, indulging in the feeling of Cas’ cool, dry skin pressed against his own. He trails kisses over Cas’ neck, enjoying his breathy moans in response.

“ _Ti amo, Dean_ ,” Castiel murmurs, the sound of him speaking Italian going straight to Dean’s groin. Dean groans as Castiel grinds against him, his growing cock evident beneath the layers of fabric between them. Cas shifts his hips further down the bed, wrapping one leg around Dean’s and pulling him closer.

“Love you too, Cas,” Dean mumbles. He takes the initiative to run his hand down Cas’ thigh, and grasping it and hiking it up forcefully. Cas’ fingers clench into his back and he moans a soft “yes” in Dean’s ear as he does.

Castiel begins kissing him even more eagerly than before. Everything seems to move at double speed, and Dean is too caught up in the warmth of his mouth or the way Cas’ moves beneath him to focus. With every shift of his hip, brushing past his cock, bolts of pleasure to run through Dean.

Cas stops and pulls back from Dean, pushing him away with a hand. Dean leans back, panic setting in that he did something wrong or pushed too far. He opens his mouth to apologize when he notices Cas unbuttoning his shorts and sliding them down his hips and thighs. He kicks them down, letting them drop over the side of the bed and leaving him exposed. Dean swallows hard, his eyes falling on a pair of blue and black satin panties, the sleek fabric darkening where Castiel’s thickening cock has leaked.

“I have…” Castiel swallows hard and rubs a hand over Dean’s chest. “Meg gave me something… for this.” He leans over and grabs his shorts back off the ground. Dean eyes widen as Castiel digs into a pocket, pulling out the condom and a small bottle of lube. Wordlessly, he presses the items into Dean’s hand.

“Cas-” Dean starts to protest.

“I want you, Dean,” he murmurs. He looks up at Dean, so demure and innocent, with flushed cheeks and overly-mussed hair. Dean’s brows draw together; he sets the condom and lube aside.

He shakes his head. “Cas, I don’t-”

“We can be fast, be done before Meg gets back.” Cas rushes out. “Or… I mean, or do you not want this?” A look of pain flashes in Cas’ eyes.

“No, no, Cas, I do,” Dean blurts out, desperate to fix this. “I really, really do. Believe me.” He takes Cas’ hand and moves it over his still painfully-hard dick, chuckling softly.

“But I want to make it special… for our first time together, y’know?” Dean continues. “If we do this now, it’s all rushed and I wanna take my time with you.” He soothes a hand up and down Cas’ arm

A soft, small smile crosses Castiel’s face and he nods in understanding. He crawls into Dean’s lap, kissing him soundly.

“You are probably correct,” he admits. He steps off from the bed and picks up his clothes. Dean’s eyes follow his every movement, a part of him protesting as Cas slips on his pajamas, covering the silky fabric across his behind. Castiel casts Dean an expectant look over his shoulder and he hurries off the bed, grabbing his t-shirt and slipping it back on.

Outside their door, there’s a crash of the front door swinging open and a sea of kids pour inside the cabin.

“I guess you want to go help them get everyone settled for the night,” Dean says, leaning back against the bedpost. Castiel glances at him and shakes his head.

“They’re fine,” he says. “Let’s just get some rest.” He flicks off the ceiling light, leaving only the bedside lamp on. Dean steps aside, allowing room for Cas to duck down and slip onto the bottom bunk. Dean grabs his sleeping bag off the floor and tosses it onto the upper mattress, foregoing the bedsheet for the night. He hefts himself over the side of the bunk in one smooth motion before awkwardly kicking out the sleeping bag and shimmying inside.

Dean pops his head over the side of the bunk, looking down at Castiel. Cas glances up at him with a soft expression. He lies flat on his back, uncovered with his hands crossed over his chest. He reaches up and clicks off the bedside lamp.

“Night, Cas,” Dean yawns, twisting around until he’s comfortable on the bed.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel whispers into the darkness. “Sweet dreams.”

 

* * *

 

The early morning air hangs thick with the scent of grass, sweat, and bug spray. Dean walks toward the mass of kids and counselors milling together, his sneakers kicking up the dew from the grass as he does. The entire camp is gathered in the open field in front of the main lodge as the staff distributes stacks of color-coded flag belts to each Lead Counselor.

In spite of the drama that surrounded the Capture the Flag tournament the entire summer, Dean find he’s actually excited about this. Maybe it has something to do with not having the pressure of Michael breathing down his neck.

“Hello Dean.” A voice behind him says. Dean smiles; more likely it has to do with the person currently slipping a hand into his.

Dean turns to greet Castiel. “Hey… Uh, Cas… Are you sure you want to wear that?” Dean gives him an odd look as Castiel glances down at his outfit.

“Yes. Why?” It’s hard not to notice the slightly-offended pitch in his voice. “Is there something the matter with my attire?”

“Uh, well, it’s going to be like 90 degrees today,” Dean offers, “and a turtleneck might not be the… best option.”

“It’s tactical.” Cas replies flatly.

“Tactical?”

He holds out his arms to model his clothes “The fabric is moisture wicking,” he explains, “the color will aid in camouflage and concealment-”

“But a turtleneck?”

“Skin care and sun protection are very important,” Castiel says, holding out a finger at Dean to make his point. “And I was told my umbrella would be a liability, hence the turtleneck.” Dean glances down at Castiel’s clothes once more.

“What about the thigh holster?” Dean asks, raising an amused eyebrow. Castiel falters at the question.

“I like it,” he admits softly. Dean grins as he reaches out and hooks a finger into the empty holster, tugging Cas forward.

“I like it too,” he says, making a kissing motion into the air with his lips.

“Save room for Jesus!” Jo calls out, jogging toward them. Dean holds his hands up defensively.

“We’re innocent, I swear.” he says. Jo give him a skeptical eye roll and thrusts two yellow flag belts at Dean and Castiel.

“Whatever, Winchester, just put these on.” She hooks her own belt around her waist. Castiel scrutinizes the belt with a frown but puts it on.

“Can you check all the kids?” Jo asks, “Make sure no one has their belt knotted or anything?”

Dean gives a mock salute. “Yes, _Captian_.” Jo’s mouth is a hard line, clearly uncomfortable with the title.

“Whatever,” she says. “I'm going to check in with Dad and see if there's anything last minute we need.” She walks off, her shoulders hunched over her small frame.

“I don't understand why they made her Team Captain,” Dean says. “She doesn't even want to do it.”

“It was Meg’s suggestion,” Castiel offers. “She got to choose her replacement.” In order to balance out the teams following the dissolution of Cabin Three, one of Five’s counselors had to be moved for the tournament. Meg had volunteered to do it so neither Dean or Cas would have to.

“Surprised she didn't choose you then,” Dean says.

“I beleive they wanted someone familiar with the competition,” Castiel replies. “I suppose you could’ve done it as well.”

“No, thank you,” Dean laughs.

The few days following Michael’s dismissal were a flurry of activity. In addition to tournament prep, news of Michael’s firing became the hot topic amongst the campers. Rumors flew that he got a counselor from the all-girls camp pregnant, or he punched Mr. Devereaux in the face, or even that he had a nervous breakdown.

Most everyone assumed it had something to do with Dean since they’d seen the brawl outside the dining hall, and he had to handle the comments and questions. He would shrug off most of them, saying he wasn’t allowed to talk about it (partially true, since Bobby told him not to let the campers know what happened). A few of the older campers and some of the counselors outright accused Dean of setting Michael up and getting him canned. Dean didn’t have to guess that Dick and Bartholomew were responsible for that.

For the most part, Dean kept his head down as much as possible, just trying to get through the remaining few days. As much as he's always loved camp before, this whole experience has put a sour taste in his mouth.

Cas and Dean do a quick headcount of the campers, making sure everyone’s belts are done right and that they’re ready to go.

A sharp whistle blows and everyone turns to face the balcony off the main hall where Bobby now stands, speaking from a megaphone.

He goes through the rules quickly, making sure to emphasize the anyone caught cheating, or even giving the semblance of cheating, would be immediately disqualified.

“Now don’t none of y’all start pulling flags off each other until you’re past the line,” Bobby says, indicating the spikes in the ground marking the barrier line. “I see anyone grabbing anyone else’s flag before you’re into the woods and you’re out of the game.”

Dean feels a tap on his shoulder and glances behind him. Meg stands with her arms crossed, a red flag belt hanging from her hips.

“How did you stop yourself from strangling Roman?” she asks seriously. “ _How_? I feel like my hands are itching just to wrap around his throat.” Dean snorts and shakes his head.

“He was so far up Michael’s ass, I could just kind of ignore him.” He replies.

“Well, I don’t have that luxury,” she mutters. “Also, speaking of which, guess who is still on property?” Castiel’s brows fly up behind his dark glasses and Dean’s expression turns to stone.

“What?” he hisses. “He was supposed to leave days ago.”

“Apparently He called his _daddy_ ,” Meg replies, her voice rising at the last word, “and now he’s coming down to fight the termination and sue the camp or something.” Dean groans and rubs at his eyes.

“God, that guy just won’t leave, will he?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty much human herpes.” Meg says. Without warning a starting pistol goes off and dozens of campers swarm past them toward the woods. Dean spins around, trying to get his bearings as he and Castiel are pushed toward the woods to start the game. As he steps past the barrier a hand latches onto his forearm.

“What the-” Meg holds his arm tightly.

“Here,” she says, ripping off her belt and shoving it at his chest. “You got me right over the line.” Dean looks down at the flag in confusion as Meg backs up and over the line.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Do you really expect me to run around the woods for three hours?” She flashes a cheshire cat smile and waves at both of them. “Have fun, you two. Go kick some ass!” Dean glances at Castiel, who gives a small shrug and continues into the trees. Dean follows after him, shoving Meg’s flag belt into the pocket of his shorts.

 

* * *

 

The Capture the Flag tournament is simple: Gather as many flags from the opposing teams as possible. Each flag has a point value, with the most value being placed on the team flag, set up at base camp. Last year, Dean’s team managed to win by ambushing other players and grabbing their belts, sacrificing their team flag to do so. They’d lost points for it, but had ended up winning just out of the sheer volume of flag belts they’d gathered.

“It was an ingenious plan, Dean,” Castiel huffs as they jog through the woods toward base camp.

“Yeah, but Bobby changed the rules now where if you lose your team flag, you’re out of the tournament.” Dean grumbles as he hops over a felled tree. Jo and the rest of the campers are already gathered at their base, forming a circle around their team flag.

“So what’s the plan, Jo?” Dean slows his steps as they approach the group.

“Three-pronged attack,” Jo says, drawing her finger over a chart attached to a clipboard. “Faster runners will branch out in all directions, scouting for other bases. We’ll get a couple people to hide and ambush other players. Anyone else can stay here and guard the base.” Dean nods.

“Sounds good. Do we three want to split up and each take a section?”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Jo says. “I’ll take the scouts. Castiel, any requests?” Cas shrugs and tries to slyly wipe at the thin line of sweat already covering his neck.

“I’ll get the ambush group,” Dean volunteers. “Cas, you ok with watching camp?” Cas nods, giving Dean a momentary relieved look at the offer.

“Great,” Jo says, jumping to her feet. “Let’s get to it, then.” She divies up the groups according to need. Dean has the largest group with six campers, while Cas gets three. Jo takes off, her kids trailing behind her.

“We won’t be too long,” Dean says.

“I think I’ll be alright, Dean,” Castiel says, a sly smirk playing at his lips. Dean tips his chin up, wordlessly telling his group to go ahead, before leaning in and giving Cas a soft peck on the lips.

“See you in a little while,” he whispers. “Love you. Have fun.” Dean turns and jogs off after his group.

 

* * *

 

Dean plants his campers at key points in the wood, instructing them to stay low, since most other players will be looking toward the trees for oncoming attacks. As much as he hates to admit it, Michael’s constant drills and preparation makes this something of a cake walk.

He stations himself and one of the smaller campers, Jesse, behind a large oak tree, keeping an ear out for other scouts. Shrieks and shouts echo through the woods as kids get caught or have their flags pulled. Dean recognizes a few of the voices, including Bartholomew’s high pitched whine as another someone snags his belt.

The steady thud and vibration of footsteps grows closer. Dean looks to Jesse and signals with a nod, receiving a thumbs up as Jesse slinks off. Dean waits with baited breath, listening to the footfalls slow, followed by a shout as Jesse comes up from behind and attacks.

The kid is small, but he’s quick.

Ed and Harry look equally pissed as Dean steps out to take the belts from Jesse.

“That’s not legal, Dean,” Harry says petulantly, folding his arms across his chest. “Director Singer gave very precise orders that campers couldn’t pull flags from staff.”

“Actually, he said _staff_ couldn’t pull from _campers_ ,” Dean says with a wry grin as he stuff the flags into his pockets. “Not the other way around.”

“Using a kid to do your dirty work, Winchester,” Ed mutters, shaking his head. “That’s low.”

“Oh please, you two are just pissed you didn’t think of it first.” It’s clear from their expressions that he’s not wrong. “Good luck next year, guys.” Ed flashes him a dirty look but they move past him toward the main trail.

“C’mon, Jesse,” Dean says, giving the kid a good-natured slap on the back. “Let’s keep moving.”

***

After an hour , Dean decides to return an exhausted Jesse to base camp to recoup. They navigate the forest, collecting the few other campers dotted throughout the woods as they go.

As they approach camp, Dean only hears a rustle in the bushes as warning and a shout of “Dean, Don’t!” before his foot catches something and he tumbles to the ground with a thud.

“Got ‘em!” Gabriel shouts out gleefully, flopping on top of Dean with all his weight when he tries to get up. He cranes his neck around to see Sam towering above him, releasing the flag belts from his kids before tugging Dean’s away as well.

‘Sonuvabitch,” he mutters as he finally shoves Gabriel off his back. “Bested by my little brother. I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Nope!” Gabriel giggles, holding up his own fistful of belts.

Sam gives him an apologetic smile and a shrug, as he undoes the wire that Dean tripped on. “I won’t hold it over your head too much,” he says. Dean gives him an annoyed scowl and pulls his brother toward him, messing his mop of hair.

“I’m sorry for my failure, Dean,” Cas steps to his side. “Gabriel has full knowledge of my weakness and used them against me.”

“Wasn’t the first time and won’t be the last,” Gabe says, “You never keep your eye on your five o’clock, Cas, just like Uncle Crowley says.” Cas glares at Gabriel but Dean smiles and winds their fingers together.

“It’s alright, Cas. Just a game, right?” he glances around, doing a quick head count of the kids. “Alright, listen up Cabin Five, we’re heading back to the main camp. Stay together and stay on the trail.” They lead the kids out of the woods, Cas’ hands still firmly locked in his.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Bobby’s voice rises through the camp’s outdoor amphitheater. “I know you’re all excited to get to lunch, but we gotta do End-of-Summer awards first.” Dean stands against the back wall, listening to Bobby drone on about camp values and trying to blink himself awake. He feels the weight of Cas’ head drop onto his shoulder.

“How you doing?” Dean asks, glancing out of the corner of his eye. Cas looks up pitifully.

“Uncomfortable,” he admits.

“Hot?” Cas nods. He’s still dressed in his turtleneck and leggings from the tournament and the temperatures aren’t even at their peak for the day. “Why don’t you go get changed? Grab your umbrella?” Cas gives Dean a grateful look and lets his hand drift over Dean’s forearm as he moves toward the exit. As soon as he’s gone, Jo fills his spot.

“This is so dumb,” she grumbles, slouching down with arms folded tightly over her chest. “I told Dad he shouldn’t waste his time with this shit.”

“Jeez, Jo. Language, much?” Dean says, “What’s got your panties all in a wad?”

“I just think this is pointless and I’m starving,” she insists. Dean looks at her curiously. He’s been friends with Jo since they were in diapers; he knows when she’s not telling him the whole truth.

“What’s going on?” he asks, nudging her. She just shakes her head petulantly. A soft, bubbly laugh drifts from the audience and her head twists in its direction. Charlie giggles behind her hand, Her eyes bright and amused. The pretty, dark haired girl sitting next to her bumps her shoulder before whispering something in her ear.

“Looks like Charlie’s getting cozy with...” Dean trails off as he glances back at Jo, realization dawning on him when he sees her hurt expression. “Wait… Are you jealous?”

“No!” she spits out much too quickly. “I’m not!”

“Really?” Dean asks doubtfully.

“I’m not jealous,” Jo repeats. “I just… It’s like I’ve barely seen her all summer, ok? We finally have a chance to hang out and she’s like ‘no thanks, I’m going to sit with _Dorothy_.’” She mocks Charlie with a high-pitched tone.

“And it’s not because I like her!” Jo continues. “Don’t give me that look. I don’t even like girls… that much.” Dean wraps an arm around her shoulder and gives her a squeeze. Jo’s whole frame intenses and she relaxes against him

“You should tell her how you feel,” he  says.

“Thanks you the advice, Dr. Phil,” she snorts sarcastically. “She already knows.”

“And?”

Jo shakes her head sadly. “She doesn’t… like me that way. She made it pretty clear.”

“Really?” Dean says, surprised by the response. “Are you sure? I mean, do you think she misunderstood-”

“I’m sure, and really It’s fine. It’s fine.” Jo shakes out of his hold dismissively. “It’s not the end of the world, it just hurts a little.”

“Jo-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make stuff awkward for everyone. I just need to… move on, I guess.” Dean opens his his mouth to argue, but she just flashes him a too-big smile and turns her attention back to Bobby, ending the conversation.

Dean sighs and leans his head back against the wall, giving up and letting his eyes slip closed. It’s not until several minutes later when he’s startled to attention by applause that he notices Cas hasn’t returned. A sinking feeling settles into his gut as he scans the audience.

“Have you seen Castiel?” he asks Jo, who just shakes her head and continues clapping. Dean moves toward the exit wordlessly, hoping Cas just got distracted by something at his cabin. As soon as he steps outside the theater, raised voices grab his attention, one of them unmistakably Michael.

“- the fuck do you think you are, huh?” Dean comes across them just in time to see Michael shove Castiel hard enough to make him stumble backwards, landing in the grass with a thud. Cas tries to pick himself up, but is shoved down again as Michael continues to scream at him. Castiel doesn’t say a word, just staring at him defiantly. A paunchy, balding man with graying hair tries to pull Michael away, but he keeps shaking him off..

“No, no!” Michael screams at his dad. “No, this little faggot is going to get what's coming to him!”

“Hey!” Dean shouts out as he runs toward them. “Hey! Stop!” Michael shifts his attention to Dean, giving Cas a chance to get to his feet.

“Aww, the cavalry is here,” Michael sneers. “I thought your boyfriend didn't need your protection?”

“He doesn't,” Dean slows down as he reaches them. “But I thought he could use a distraction.” Michael’s brow furrows in confusion for a brief second until Castiel’s fist connects with his chin sending his head jerking back. He sways but stays on his feet,

“Oh, fuck!” Michael growls, rubbing at his jaw and raising a hard glare at Dean. “Oh, you are so fucking dead!” He moves to tackle him, but falls flat on the ground as 115 lbs of angry blond lands on his back.

“You leave my fucking friends alone, you stupid fuck!” Jo screams, brightly-colored nails digging into his face. Michael screams, flailing around as he tries to get her off of him. Dean moves to Cas’ side, holding an arm out to protect him.

“You ok?” Dean asks. Castiel nods, trying to look composed, but his hand tremble a little in shock as he takes Dean’s

“I’m fine,” he murmurs.

A crowd swarms out of the theater to watch the fight. Blood and claw marks runs down Michael’s face from where Jo scratched him. He tries to protect himself from the flurry of tiny, angry fists raining down on him as she spits out every curse word she can call him. Everyone glances at each other, wondering if they should make a move to stop it. Bobby finally rushes from the theater, pushing through the crowd and pulling Jo away and off of Michael, her legs still kicking in the air.

“I swear to God, if I see your Ambercrombie and Douche face ever again, I’ll fuck you up, asshole!” Jo shouts as Bobby hurriedly drags her back toward the office. Michael crumples into a ball on the ground, his whole body shaking with ugly sobs. The crowd begins to dissipate and head in the direction of the dining hall as Michael’s dad reluctantly helps him up.

“You want to get out of here?” Dean asks; Cas nods. “You hungry?” Castiel gives an emphatic headshake.

“Let’s check on the kids and then get out of here, ok?” Dean says. Once again, Cas nods, moving on autopilot with the rest of the group.

 

* * *

 

They sit at the edge of the dock, barefoot, with their toes skimming the shimmering water of the lake.

“You ok, Cas?” Dean asks, lightly rubbing a hand over the uncovered skin of his thigh.

Cas nods. “Yes, I think so.” He says.

“You sure?” Dean scoots closer and takes Cas’ hand, winding their fingers together. “You seemed really shook up back there.” Castiel shrugs and shifts his umbrella to his other shoulder.

“I was caught off guard, I’ll admit.”

“By Michael?”

“No, Jo,” Cas replies. “She was vicious. She was animalistic... It was beautiful.” Dean lets out a low laugh.

“Well, I could’ve told you Jo had a temper,” he says. “Hell, she fought off bullies for _me_ in grade school.”

“And she called me her friend,” Cas says quietly, a small, proud smile crossing his face.

“Well, yeah you are,” Dean says, nudging him. “Jo likes you. Don’t let her sarcasm tell you otherwise. You two have more in common than you think.”

“I believe you are right,” he replies. “I hope her punishment, won’t be too harsh.” Dean shakes his head.

“Nah, Michael is a douchbag and Bobby knows it,” Dean says. “Plus, he instigated the fight with you. If Jo gets in any trouble, it will just be cursing up a blue streak in front of the kids.” Cas hums in agreement as he rises to his feet.

“You want to go back already?” Dean asks. Cas closes his umbrella and sets it on the dock.

“No, I was hoping there might be one more summer camp cliche we could partake in before we have to leave.” Cas removes his glasses and sets them down gently next to his umbrella.

“And what would that be?”

“Skinnydipping,” Cas says flatly, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth moment. “Why do you look so perturbed, Dean? I know for a fact you’ve done this before.”

“Uh, yeah, but...Cas, it's the middle of the day.” Castiel glances around the empty lake.

“I suppose we’ll have to make it quick, them,” he says, shimmying out of his shorts and panties. He offers a hand to help Dean up. “Shall we?” Dean is distracted by the lithe lines of Cas’ body for a moment, but takes his hand.

“I thought you couldn't swim?” Dean asks.

“Well, I guess you'll just have to dive in and save me.” Cas smirks and flashes him a wink before launching himself off the dock and into the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big huge thanks to [Artsiel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/artsiel/pseuds/artsiel) and [JiniZ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JiniZ) for providing constant support and beta efforts while writing this. 
> 
> You an find me on [tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/) and you can also follow my [Wednesday Addam!Castiel blog](http://wednesdayaddamscastiel.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/). You can also check out the blog devoted to [Wednesday Addams!Castiel](http://wednesdayaddamscastiel.tumblr.com/)


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